The Traveller
by Orange.Secrets
Summary: The death of her father led Scarlett Thatcher and her childhood friend Cheyenne, two young women of Montana, on a strange journey to find a man named Thomas Dougherty. Who disappeared two decades ago and left behind clues to the ancient world of Middle earth. AU. Romance, adventure and mystery.
1. Who is Thomas Dougherty?

Hello everyone! I have been playing around with this idea for some time. Nervous about trying my hand at this fic. Hopefully it will not be terrible or boring. The story was spawned from a strange idea and decided to write it. It branches off the typical idea of girl falls into middle earth, but not necessarily entirely. This story will speak for itself as you read more of it. This will be an AU/Canon. Crosses between different ideas to make one ULTIMATE story! No, not really... I'm simply having fun. Maybe you'll grow to like it? Maybe.

So don't run away just yet...

And I apologize for any typos

I've noticed very few fic are similar to this idea, so hopefully it'll appear different. It will have some romance of different character; possibly romance with my characters, be warned but no slash or graphic sex scenes. I am rating this T, for precaution. The timeline will bounce but don't worry, I'll give you a warning. Please forgive me if the dates are sightly off. Its been a long time since I've read the books. If you see a mistake, please tell me and I will fix it. I do hope to hear from you and know you thoughts on this story. ;)

Sorry if my elvish is wrong, unfortunately I did not major in LOTR Language during college.

For all the Purist: this is an AU. WARNING: AU!

Declaim! I am not making money! Or claiming all the ideas are mine, this is a fanfic and not a professional publishing for future $$$.

Without further delay, please sit back and enjoy this story and I will answer any questions from your comments.

Full Summary: The death of her father led Scarlett Thatcher and her childhood friend Cheyenne, two young women of Montana, on a strange journey to find a man named Thomas Dougherty. Who disappeared two decades ago and left behind clues to the ancient world of Middle earth.

* * *

The Traveller

* * *

Who is Thomas Dougherty

Scarlett Thatcher lazily rested on her stomach upon the moist dirt, circling her finger around a dandelion's head whilst her horse Trigger grazed nearby. On top of a hill, miles from her family's ranch in Montana, Scarlett took her horse to escape the deadly crutches of her mid-term paper; due after her spring break. Majoring in archeology and anthropology was a risky path which she was confident to take along learning linguistic to translate ancient languages. The sun was high above her and radiated warmth down on her fair skin. Long and untamed dark locks with tints of red sprawled across her back whilst the collar of her white button up blouse itched her chin. The young twenty year old hummed a familiar lullaby while, securely protected by trees and wildlife. Scarlet glanced up at her horse who kept his butt to her.

"Aren't they just pretty, boy?" Scarlett inquired dreamily as Trigger nickered, swished his tail and completely ignored her.

"Well, I know you probably think they taste good rather than look good." Scarlett answered herself, chuckled when realized she was talking to herself. Not having the heart to pull out the dandelion to where as accessory, Scarlett rolled into her back before she stood up and dust off the dirt from her denim pants. Her hair fell on her chest, reached her naval with natural waves. Gingerly she approached Trigger and avoided stepping on the wildflowers. She patted his neck. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you."

Trigger nickered loudly into her sensitive ear which she cringed and immediately covered it. Her fingers delicately covered the tip of her ear from her horse who rubbed his head against her. She smiled until suddenly in the distance she heard her name being echoed across the lands. It was faint but enough to capture her attention. Cautiously she approached the edge and gazed down far below near the slopes where she noticed Buck, her father's ranch caretaker, road wildly on Apollo. He waved his hand frantically over his head to signal her. Frowned to the sight, Scarlett felt a twinge of fright. Fright that something terrible had happened. Swiftly she jogged to Trigger and mounted him effortlessly. Breathlessly she uttered, "Alright boy, there's trouble. We need to make tracks."

Gently she tapped her heel into his side and he responded with an eager nicker. Trigger cantered away from their favorite spot and followed the trail down the small hill. They met at the slopes, their horses panted heavily.

"What's the matter, Buck?" Scarlett inquired as she stared into the old man's blue eyes that were shadowed by his cowboy hat.

"It's your father." He uttered in his thick southern accent that suddenly went solemn. That alone had her worried; Buck was never an emotional man. "There's been an accident, girl."

In that moment, her heart sunk until her legs went weak. Even without knowing the truth, she knew in her heart that it was bad. Thankfully, she sat on Trigger otherwise she would have collapsed. After the shock wore off, Scarlett glanced over the terrain toward the direction of the ranch where she felt her father fading. Without further delay, she roughly urged Trigger to make haste. "Wait, girl!" Buck called out but she did not give him the time. Trigger galloped wildly back to the ranch, his mane brushed against her cheek.

"Hurry, boy!" She urged against the wind.

As they neared, Triggered jumped over the white fence, a short cut to the Victorian styled house at the end of the horseshoe dirt road. Dashed out from the door was Ted, the middle-aged rancher who lived next to them. He hurried down from the porch to steady Trigger as Scarlett leaped off. When she sprinted to the porch, Ted swiftly grabbed her arm and Scarlett snapped to him surprised, "Scarlett… prepare yourself."

The warning struck her heart when he released her. That was when Buck arrived on a very tired horse. "Scarlett!"

She ignored him and rushed through the doors and into the living room where there were some of her father's workers. All faithful people who worked on the ranch for many years and loved them like family. Rosa, her middle-aged maid rose from the couch, teary eyed, "Oh Scarlett."

Scarlett ignored their sentiment and sprinted up the stairs to the second level. Her Aunt Helen and Uncle John stood in the doorway of her father's master bedroom. They had their arms around each other, whilst Aunt Helen, her father's sister, cried onto Uncle John's shoulder. Uncle John gently moved his distraught wife out of the way to allow Scarlett through. Scarlett rushed in and came to an abrupt stop to the sight before her with her hair fly forward. Her heart felt like it was ripped from her and immediately grew pale. On the bed, there was her father Roy, covered in his own blood. Cuts and an open wound on stomach discharged fresh blood from his weakened and older body. Perspiration on his brow, eyes close tight and labored breaths thrust through his cracked parted lips. Next to him was Lily, Ted's wife and a retire nurse, who attempted to care for him. She looked over at Scarlett, surprised to find her there.

"Scarlett!" She hesitated. "This is not a place to be." She whispered maternally, in hoped to shield the young girl from this tragedy.

"Scarlett?" The voice came from Roy's bloodied mouth as he snapped open his eyes. It was raspy as he choked on his own blood. His eyes sought out hers. Scarlett came to the side of the bed, frightened and he reached out a shaky hand. "My dear… girl."

"Dad..." Scarlett snatched his hand: filled with disbelief and swiftly sat on the edge of the bed, not caring if his blood touched her. Her eyes scanned over him as he tried to speak. Hysterically, she snapped at Lily. "What happened? Where is the ambulance? The paramedics… doctors? Anyone? Where are they?!"

Lily's lips trembled as her face flushed with sorrow, "There was an accident with the bull. Your father tried to… to.."

Scarlett swallowed hard as she tried to suppress her tears and attempted to be strong for her father's sake. It was no secret that her father did rodeo for additional money. The wound on his abdomen suggested that he was impaled by the bull's horn during his training. At this point, his organs were punctured and he was suffering from internal bleeding. At his age, death would swift for he neared six-five and endured a history of health problems. They lived too far away for the ambulance to reach them. By the time they did, her father would be….

No, angrily Scarlett shook her head of that thought, and turned to her uncle "Why haven't you taken him to town?" She shouted, her voice slowly rising with fear as she fought back the overwhelming emotions.

"He is bleeding too much..." Lily answered, tears rolled down freely. "Your uncle and Ted barely got him here."

Scarlett pursed her lip, hated that answer. She shook her head and swiftly stood. "No, there's still time." She spoke heavily, frantically urged the others to react. "Help me take him to the hospital." She turned and about to hoist her father over her shoulder when her Uncle John left his wife and swiftly snatched her into his arms, prevented her from any rash actions. "No, please… there's still time… There's time!"

She shouted loudly and fought against her uncle's tight arms. Her uncle had to use all his strength to restrain his niece for she was oddly strong. She kicked, hit, and tired everything to be released until she got weary and sobbed into her uncle's shoulder. Abruptly felt weak, and want nothing more to fade in this moment. Uncle John spoke against her ear, "There is no more time. You need to face the truth."

The brutal truth poured onto her and forced her to trembled when she heard her father call her name. Scarlett pulled away from her uncle and sat next to him again. As she tried to straighten, Scarlett wiped away the tears and attempted to be strong for her father's sake. "Dad…"

"My girl… I love you." He choked, and Scarlett repressed a sob. It was a rare sentiment to confess his love for his only daughter. His breath became raspy as he struggled to breathe. The end neared, much to his fears. Roy faced his daughter again determined to say what's needed to be said, "I… I never told you this… I am proud of you. I'll tell your mother how much you've grown… and….and…"

Roy struggled as Scarlett's vision began abruptly blurred and her tears escaped from the corner of her eyes. Widen eyed, Roy stared as his daughter, fought for his last breath and his tight hold on her hand slowly weakened. Scarlett shook her head, her heart constricted, "No… Don't go! Please."

"...Thomas...Dougherty..."

Roy struggled until his eyes went blank and darkened. Scarlett gasped, and fell in to shock. Every muscle in her body froze until slowly started to shake uncontrollably followed by a heart-wretched sob. Uncle John pulled her yet again to a tight embrace and listened silently to her cries. Her sensitive ears blocked out the wails of sorrows from the others and before long it was silent. Time stilled.

Disbelief. Denial... they were her closest friends until Scarlett slowly pulled away and turned toward his father as Lily shakily covered his blooded body with a sheet. Aunt Helen came around and placed a comforting hand on Lily's shoulder. The truth was before her: Her father was dead. Now she stood in the world as a orphan, alone with her own twisted thoughts and with the burdens her father left behind.

Scarlett recovered herself and inquired in a low voice, that was weak. "Who is Thomas Dougherty?"

Her Uncle grew grim, unable to look at her and cleared his throat. Scarlet frowned and look to the others who refused to make eye contact and act as if she haven't spoken. The raw emotion crawled at her, slowly boiling over anger of the loss and fueled by the hurt. "Who is he?!"

Her voice shrilled through the room, escalated by her dry throat until they cringed. "Scarlet?" Ted's gentle voice came from the threshold, in no better condition then her family. Wearily, she looked to him as he kept a steady eye, "Its been a hard day for all of us..."

Scarlet swallowed, swiftly ashamed of her outburst to the people who loved her dearly. For the respect she had for Ted, she nodded obediently and allowed the topic to drop. Scarlett return to the comforting arms of her uncle as she waited in vain for the ambulance to arrive.

A blink of an eye… that was all it took to turn her life upside down.

* * *

Day by day: time moved with no rhythm until nearly five days past. Scarlett spent most of them in the trees near her home, to find comfort in the nature. As a child, she believed she could speak to trees and feel their emotions. Its been many years since then, and life at school along with friends and jobs simply pulled her away. Now she was welcomed with disquiet. The workers continued their everyday duties of caring for the ranch and avoided her on the Thomas Dougherty topic. Rosa often offered her food to help with the passing of her father with sweet verses in Spanish but none prevailed. It grew darker for her. The ranch had lost it's light. Within time, their family's funds would run out. Scarlett attempted to fulfill her father's shoes but it grew harder by the day. Ever since her father's death, inconsiderate real estate agents would try to buy her ranch for rich clients who heard the bad news and twisted it into a greedy opportunity. Roy had connections from town and which, his hundred acres of good land seemed inviting to most. However as always, Buck came with his gun chased them off the property, with sounds of gunfire blistering in the air. Warned those miserable fools to never return. The days grew thin and everything happened continuously. Her aunt asked how she handled things, her uncle gave her words of encouragement, Buck chased off the real estate agents , Rosa cooked a feast for twenty, Ted and Lily call her from the house line. It became a blur.

Scarlett often replayed the events in her head and tortured herself with the idea of what if. What if she wasn't at her secret spot. What if she was working on her mid-term paper, only then she could had more time. Time to save her father, time to drive madly into town. The ambulance arrived only after forty-five minutes after her father's death, accompanied with a helicopter. Things could have been different.

Scarlett sighed deeply as she stared at the bills that were scattered across her kitchen table. The weather channel was on low tune, displayed the weather for the evening. She glanced up curiously at the small television that sat on her kitchen counter. The weatherman pointed out the weather changes in his profession tone, "As you see here, there are strong winds coming from Canada and will enter Montana by the evening. There is a fifty percent chance for a storm…"

Scarlett moaned in irritation as she turned off the television with the remote control. She reviewed the funding and learned they were running severely short. Perhaps another three months or so, before things go under. Her father left many bills and small funds in the saving account. Scarlett knew her father struggled and things were slipping, but never knew how fast. Roy was a quiet man, even became distant after her mother passed away eight years ago. Running a ranch was a risky business unless there was abundant of money in the bank account. Roy worked as a breeder and rode horses for shows. It had been awhile since their last big break. It was no secret that Roy simply lost the desire after his wife died and slowly allowed the ranch to waste away. With that played against her, Scarlett dropped out of the semester and was unsure of returning.

The ranch was good land, and for a moment, Scarlett considered the real estate agent's offer. However the others: Rosa, Buck, Lily and Ted, and her family lived on the property. Her family's small cottage was not far off whilst Lily and Ted owned another home on the ranch near the back where the cows roamed. Buck and Rosa lived in her house, on the first floor. They would be evicted and forced to move.

"Great." She hissed to herself and leaned back into the chair as her shoulders drooped. What to do?

"Knock, knock." Scarlett heard from the screen door before it opened. Instantly she recognized that voice and she swiftly left the kitchen to head toward the living room. Out from the dry sun came Cheyenne, her childhood friend. Dressed in her denim shorts, tight white tank top and brown boots. The curvaceous twenty two year old was an all-star overachiever during their studies in college with the smile to melt men's hearts. Cheyenne pulled up her sunglass to set upon her short curled blond hair. Green eyes gazed at Scarlett with sympathy. "Hello honey. I came as soon as I heard. Why did you not call me?"

Scarlett hesitated while attempting to bury her feelings that filled her heart with sorrow. "I'm sorry, much was happening."

She sniffed, almost hesitant to approach her long time friend but Cheyenne wouldn't have that. Cheyenne instantly embraced her in a tight hug and swayed her like a child. "Its alright to cry."

"Thanks for coming." Scarlett whispered into Cheyenne's ear as she returned the tight embrace and tucked her face into the crock of her friend's neck.

Cheyenne pulled away, smiled softly as she pulled a tissue out her never-ending supply from her Gucci purse. Like a mother would, Cheyenne wiped away her tears and curled up the tissue and hid it in her pocket, "That's what's friends are for. Come and talk to me."

Cheyenne pulled Scarlett by the hand toward the multi-pattern couch where she flopped eagerly onto the cushion. All the thoughts about the ranch's troubles slowly eased from her mind. Like always, Cheyenne made things better just by her presence. A perfect one-woman army with beauty and intelligence packed into a small fragile body. Scarlett sighed and ruffed her wild dark hair before she leaned onto Cheyenne's shoulder for comfort.

Cheyenne racked her fingers through her hair, gently tucking on the end and massaging Scarlett's scalp. "Everything will be alright. " She began in a confident tone that gave Scarlett much strength. "If anyone can get through this, its you. Why don't you spend some time at my place?""

Scarlett pulled away, sniffed away her tears and sighed heavy. Her shoulder drooped before she stood up and placed her hands into her pockets. When she faced Cheyenne, She murmured wearily, "There are preparations to be made."

"Isn't your uncle taking care of that?" Cheyenne filled in Scarlett's excuse, with a gentle but unreasonable voice. As she cocked eyebrow, Cheyenne pressed, "I don't believe your Uncle will be vexed if you spent a day or two with me. My mother is away on business and we'll have the house to ourselves, like old times."

Scarlett cracked a smile to the idea of spending time with her friend. With life in the way, Scarlett hardly spent time with Cheyenne except when they shared classes together. While Scarlett studied Archeology, Cheyenne majored in history in hopes to be a historian. Ever since they were children, learning about history was their favorite pastime and it intrigued them that the most of early history was a blur. It was as if a chunk of history was ripped from the timeline and the earliest known history was the beginning of the fifth age. Scarlett sunk back into the couch, "I have things to figure out."

"What things?" Cheyenne pried as she crossed her leg over the other and tilted her head to the side.

"You know: bills, going through my father's things. I have yet to adventure to the attic. Father didn't like me in there. Who knows what I'll find up there." Scarlett shrugged as she spoke softly.

Cheyenne nodded her head in comprehension as she remembered Roy's problem with the attic. It was closed off, locked and was allowed to decay with age, webs and dust. From what she remembered, it was filled with Roy's wife belongings. Packed away into boxes, preserved and hidden from sight. Cheyenne finally sighed as her curiosity got the best of her, and stood up. "Well, lets go and venture up there."

"What?" Scarlett asked incredulous.

"Come on." Cheyenne waved, ignored her question as she approached the split staircase. Her heels clanked on the wood as she made her way up third floors with Scarlett on her tail. "I want to see what's up there."

Scarlett sighed deeply, did not have the heart to argue. Murmured nonchalantly, "Fine."

When they approached the door at the top of the third floor, Scarlett fiddled with her father's keys. Dozen of keys clanked and compressed on a small ring. Scarlett found the old bronze key and unlocked the door. She had to push the door with his shoulder to force it to open. The door whined in protest as the light from the hall illuminated into the ominous attic. Scarlett suppressed the need to cough from the closed air. Barely five feet into the attic, boxes, old paintings and nick knacks filled every corner until there was hardly any room to maneuver.

"Wow." Cheyenne utter amazed at the clutter. It was worse than she remembered. Her eyes took in the heavily piled of dust on the floors and boxes. She cleared her throat and said plainly, "You got your work cut out for you. Look at these mountain of boxes."

"You don't say." Scarlett murmured incredulous, almost frustrated to the thought of more work. She was more than happy that she dropped the semester. If the ranch was indeed failing then all this must be dealt with now. "I never know how much my father kept. This is going to take lifetime!"

"Hey, if you want?" Cheyenne turned to Scarlett, gently pushed her idea. "Stay with me for the night and take a break from this. And tomorrow, I will help you with this. I promise. Come on, what do you say?"

"This is take a long time." Scarlett said defiantly, warning her friend of what she'll get herself into.

"Thats fine. My paper is finished and I free for the week. I will be here for you."

Scarlett sighed, and mustered a shy smile "Ok."

* * *

Later that night, Cheyenne and Scarlett walked out of the house with a small bag of Scarlett belongings. After notifying her family's going away for the weekend, the sky grew darker and the sun slowly descended over the mountains. With her hands in her pockets, Scarlett stared up at the sky, defiantly and unafraid of the thunder. Cheyenne wrapped her free arm over Scarlett's shoulder as they walked down the porch steps and spoke about the future.

"I was thinking about selling the ranch." Scarlett uttered softly once they were sure the other workers weren't in ear shot.

Cheyenne stopped in her tracks and turned to Scarlett, appalled by the very thought. Defeat was not the answer. "Scarlett!" She shouted in surprise, her tone rang loudly in Scarlett's ear and Scarlett hushed her. Cheyenne whispered harshly. "No, that's your father's ranch!"

"I know." Scarlett uttered in defeat, felt guilty to the thought and tucked her hands into her pocket. Down-casted her eyes, bit her lip and traced the dirt with her tip of her foot. It even hurt her to even admit that bitter truth. Scarlett looked up at Cheyenne and continued forlornly, "But I have no idea what to do with the ranch. I am not a businesswoman or a rancher. I ride horses, that's pretty much it. It was suppose to go to my cousin but…"

"He died, too." Cheyenne answered for her sadly before she inhaled a deep breath of air.

"Yeah… I don't know. I feel like I need to leave." Scarlett shrugged her shoulders before they drooped and looked around her father's land, "I love it here but my father left too much bills and 'unfinished business' behind. Gosh, I never knew. He was always so quiet after mom died."

"I am sorry hun." Cheyenne whispered despondently, and reached Scarlett again to wrap a protective arm around her shoulder.

Scarlett sighed deeply before she looked up at the sky again, frowned by the very sight. The clouds darkened dangerously with internal lightening and whats worse…. The clouds began to rotate. Never before had she seen such display in the skies in Montana. Fear struck her as she said warningly, "We should probably leave. Those clouds don't look right."

Cheyenne pulled away from Scarlett and placed her hand on her hip with a mocking expression on her face. "What?" She asked surprise; an impish smile grew on her lips, "Seriously? Since when was the Ferocious Scarlett terrified of little thunder?"

"Since I developed instincts." Scarlett said without humor in her voice, but very serious.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I have instincts too, silly girl." Cheyenne mocked, waved her hand nonchalantly. Before they continued down the horse shoe road to Cheyenne's car, she glanced down at the dandelions sprawled near the house. "These are so beautiful."

When she bent down to pull one out, Scarlett frantically yelled. "No, don't pull them out! Flowers have feelings you know!"

Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow, shifted onto one leg and crossed her arms cockily. A suppressed chuckled past her lips as she rolled her eyes, "Feelings? Really, Scarlett? Aren't you past your childhood concerns for plants?"

"No." Scarlett scoffed, surprised by that question. "They do have feelings."

"Ok." Cheyenne held up her hands in surrender to her friend's emotional outburst, tried not to laugh at her plant-happy personality. Things have not changed since they were wearing diapers together. Even after they went to high school and then to college, Scarlett remained the same soft-hearted tree hugging girl. Cheyenne lips curved into a smile to that thought. "Whatever you say."

They walked to Cheyenne's expensive white BMW parked on the end of horseshoe dirt road. The wind thrust harder, below Scarlett's dark locks to her face. Instantly she crawled into the passenger seat with the wind whistling in her ear, freezing her fair cheeks. The women took cover in the car, prepared to leave the ranch toward the thirty minute ride to Cheyenne mother's house. Even though Cheyenne had a dorm, she often went home. Money was never much of a concern for her. Cheyenne wasn't shy to turn at high speed on the dirt road, casting dust to the wind and then racing down the dirt road with 90's music in the background.

Scarlett leaned into the leather chair, stared outside as nature past her and watched the sky darkened across the horizon. Tried to forget these terrible days and ignore what's to come. She brought up her hand to her ear, softly trailing up to the tip and played with her disfigured earlobe. Faintly wondering why her family avoided the topic of Thomas Dougherty.

Thirty minutes past in a blur when they rounded a corner to what Scarlett would call the 'fancy' area. Up the long driveway, they parked in front of a large house that Cheyenne's mother got from her divorce. White panels, and a stone entrance welcomed high curved windows. The lawn expanded with lush green and an organized garden. Scarlett and Cheyenne left the car out in the driveway and approached the front double doors. Cheyenne fiddled with her keys before they entered and Scarlett was invaded by the familiar smell of lavender.

The house was spotless, perfectly organized and the muted colors matched thoroughly through the house. At the entrance, a curved staircase led to the second level, lined with marble flooring. The first floor was wide and opened, very modern. The living room was equipped with a tall and wide fireplace, along with tall windows to display a view of the backyard and the pool.

"Home sweet home. Hey are you hungry?" Cheyenne asked nonchalantly, left her purse on the entry table and walked straight to the kitchen on the left side.

Scarlett sighed and left her backpack on the table and followed the sounds of her friend's heels on the marble. Into the modern kitchen, the counters expanded into a large L shape with an expensive fridge and double stove. In the corner, a grand dinner table was left in the dim room. A key pad to control lights and other electronics was mantled on the wall near the fridge.

Cheyenne reached into the freezer, having to leaned onto her toes to pull out two cartons of ice cream. "Ah, here. Want some rocky road ice cream or cookies and cream?"

Scarlett smiled to her favorite dessert. Cheyenne always kept a carton of rocky road in her fridge. When Scarlett grabbed two spoons, they swiftly escaped to Cheyenne's room on the second floor. Down a long hall of guest rooms and another large living room, came into view Cheyenne's door. Her room was twice Scarlett's kitchen, filled with dark furniture and a wide flat screen on the wall. Shelves of books and small statuette from Italy laden across the far wall, outlined with tall windows.

Scarlett sat on Cheyenne's queen bed that was covered by a light blue comforter. They ignored the wind howling whilst Cheyenne flipped through tv stations, "no... no... oh! Friends."

Scarlett chuckled, sucking the remaining of the ice cream from her spoon. As hard it was, Scarlett tried to forget the recent events, she prevented her mind to wonder back to her father or the ranch. All she wanted for the moment was peace, just for a little while. Upon her stomach and eating ice cream, Scarlett glanced up at Cheyenne who removed her boots and sat on the edge of the bed with her feet swinging from the ledge and completely engrossed to the show. Despite this break from reality, Scarlett couldn't resist the nagging question.

"You know," Scarlett began, swiftly licking the last bit of chocolate from her spoon and glanced up, "My family... they been acting strange."

"What do you mean? Is it because of your father?" Cheyenne tilted her head, encouraging Scarlett to continue and scooped more ice cream before she muted the flat screen.

Scarlett pulled out the spoon from her mouth, quickly swallowing before she sighed. For a moment, she was hesitate and find the whole situation ridiculous. None of the less, it bugged her to no end. "Yes. Before my dad died, he... murmured the name Thomas Dougherty."

Cheyenne knitted her eyebrows together in confusion, and became serious after the name Thomas Dougherty. A name that barely was breathed during her own childhood and one that caused much hurt to her family. Slowly her hand began to shake, her heart skipped a beat and scarcely listening to Scarlett, "This wouldn't be such a great deal if they didn't avoid me which makes me more suspicious. My family completely ignores me. They won't tell me who he is. It was the last thing he said and no one will tell me why... Cheyenne?"

Scarlett stared at the wide-eyed Cheyenne who was lost in her own thoughts. A gentle shake jolted Cheyenne back to reality as she breathed sharply. When Cheyenne glanced down at Scarlett, she found a pair of concerned eyes that grew heavy with questions. Pursed her lips into a tight line, Cheyenne murmured softly, "Thomas Dougherty is my grandfather."

"Your grandfather?" Scarlett repeated, surprised but also delighted that she has a small piece to her mysterious puzzle. Swiftly she jumped up to a seated position, full alert and completely forgot the ice cream carton on the bed.

"On my mother side." Cheyenne explained in a soft and distant voice filled with confusion. "Wait, how does your father know him? He's been gone for almost twenty years?"

Scarlett frowned as her shoulder drooped. As she shrugged, Scarlett inquired with a disappointed voice, "Where is he?"

Cheyenne shrugged and answered with defeat, "No one knows. He just disappeared one day."

"Just disappeared?" Scarlett repeated, incredulity.

"Yeah, mom never spoke of him." Cheyenne looked down at her spoon that her fingers twisted and fiddled. "He's been in and out of her life, be gone for months, even years at a time. Grandma never married him. I was a baby when he disappeared. Come to thing of it, I never questioned why? Mom simply kept him quiet and I was never allowed to ask about him."

Scarlett frowned and questioned slowly, to make sure she understood correctly. "You weren't allowed?"

"No" Answered Cheyenne, shrugged. "Mom was angry at him for being gone most of her life and after grandma died, she kept only a few things of him in her room."

"Really?" Scarlett inquired with a devious smile.

The sad features that were on Scarlett's face melted into a mischievous expression, one that fueled Cheyenne's curiosity. It simply brought back memories of their curious deeds of breaking into the school's library to read old books. Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow, "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"Definitely." Scarlett nodded, her chest filled with excitement.

Cheyenne smiled, "Alright... but, remember..."

"Yes, I know," Scarlett answered nonchalant, rolled her eyes and waved her hand. "What happens here stays here."

"Ok, wait here."

When Cheyenne disappeared from the room, Scarlett shook her head. No matter how old they get, Cheyenne will always remember to never upset her mother. An ill-temper, OCD woman with hot Italian blood packed into an aggressive small woman. The look alone was enough to simply stop being mischievous during their high school days. Even Scarlett was afraid of her when thing got dicey but definitely the one she went to when children bullied her as a child because of her deformed ears. Annabella was never to be trifled, but she was a private woman, who said what's on her mind but kept bad blood quiet beneath the carpet. This innocent deed of investigating Cheyenne's grandfather would definitely earn them more than a frown from Annabella.

Scarlett sighed and glanced at Cheyenne's ice cream which only had a few scoops left. She bit her lip and mischievously stole a spoonful before Cheyenne returned. Out from the hall came Cheyenne with a heavy strange chest with iron handles. Frowned to the sight, Scarlett sat up and half expected a simple box rather than a chest. Cheyenne struggled with the weight, her arms trembled under the pressure before she dropped it onto the bed with relief. Cheyenne felt as if she completed a workout. With a tired sigh, she exclaimed. "This thing is heavy! No wonder why mom would never hide it in the basement."

"Wow, look at the design." Scarlett ignored Cheyenne as she examined the chest with great interest. "Its looks as though if would be from the eighteen hundreds and in good condition!"

"Yeah, mom said he was always bringing home stuff from like history." Cheyenne explained before unlocking it and slowly lifted the heavy lid to reveal dusty personal items. Strange gold and silver coins filled the bottom which explained the heaviness. Cheyenne dived in, gently pulled stuff out as she examined them curiously.

Scarlett took a silver coin and curiously twisted it in her hand. It was heavier than a cheap plastic toy and even resembled to old coins from ancient times but with a strange insignia. With her archeologist mind, she tried to match it to a particular time in history, but never before had she seen such an item. The insignia had no relations from the Roman Empire to current times. Strange marking, an odd language curved at the bottom of a tree insignia. Perhaps it was something for prehistoric times but crave men could not have not made this. It annoyed her that she had no answers.

Curiosity got the best of her, Scarlett got off the bed, and went to the laptop on Cheyenne's desk. She researched of coins and currencies whilst Cheyenne pulled out two silver daggers. They were beautiful designed with a slight curve, old but sharp. In awe, Cheyenne brushed her finger across the blade, "Wow... I never knew my grandfather was such... a history freak."

Scarlett mustered a smile but nothing made sense. There was nothing on the website of these coins. Why would her father uttered this man's name? A man who had been missing for two decades, and only left behind a name and a chest full of odd items. What was missing?

Cheyenne pulled out a torn journal with parchment paper covered by a leather exterior. In her hands, if felt old and as if it'll break apart. Gently she opened it to finds pages torn from the center and completely disorganized but each paper filled with summarized events. She pulled out one page, torn from the center and wrinkled. "My grandfather's hand writing..."

Scarlett turned from the computer desk and frowned at the journal, then glanced up at Cheyenne's amazed expression as her eyes teared up slightly. "What does it say?"

"umm...All the pages are hard to read and not in order." She mumbled, slightly annoyed to the unorganized pages. Her OCD side slowly came out and stressed her out. She dropped the journal onto the bed, slowly flipped through the pages with odd dates. Most had two dates: one from after 60's and the others from another age. With a hard sigh, Cheyenne gave up on attempting to clean up the mess and calmly grabbed a less abused paper. "Well, this one begins:..."

March 6, 1965

to

TA 101

There was much uncertainty. A strange pause in Middle Earth that had Lady Galadriel anxious, which only fueled Haldir's anxiety. The winds shifted ever so slight, almost enough for Haldir to miss if it weren't for Lady Galadriel's warning. A warning that something lingered in the outskirts of Lothlorien. Several days into the forest, Haldir's patrol stole silently into the woods. Deeper and deeper they went, almost neared to the northern border. Not a single twig snapped or crunch from the ground to alert their arrival. The sun was high and shined down through the gaps of the trees. Stealthy and vigilant, the patrol scouted the area for signs of strange activities.

Haldir suspected it could have been an orc pack, baring steel and poison arrows; considered the recent events of this new age. Sauron, the Dark Lord was destroyed during the Alliance between Men and Elves. However, not a single orc crossed these border. What could have had his lady so concerned of? The patrol sprawled out, readied their arrows for any inconveniences. Haldir concentration, listened intently, but… something was amiss, the very air changed and even forced a shiver. A rare feeling that Haldir was not accustom too. His hand twitched on the bow, his eyes carefully surveyed the area with caution. Anticipation gnarled at him, taunted him… Something moves.

He heard his Lady's voice in his head, warning him. _No dirweg_!

Instantly, he nocked his arrow, slowly moved forward to the strange sounds of snoring. Frowned, as the sound grew worse and louder, almost equivalent to a dying beast. In the corner of his eyes, his brothers followed from a distance, disturbed by the sounds. As he drew near to a bush, he gently pushed back the greenery and there on the moist ground was a mortal.

Not just any mortal, but a strange man dressed in odd clothing, sleeping on his side in a fetal position. He was young in his mortal years, Haldir estimated perhaps in his late twenties. The mortal wore a bright blue shirt, brighter than Haldir had ever seen and even the design was well-done. This man must be rich to afford such expensive material. His pants were loose around his legs, almost gave Haldir the impression that they would surely fall off. Not a sight he wanted to see. On his right hand, he wore a ring and a gold necklace strapped around his neck.

The patrol followed their Marchwarden to the disrupting sounds of snoring. Confused, Haldir replaced his bow into his quiver and warned. "_Na manwa_."

The patrol nocked their arrows, pointed at the strange man as Haldir came closer to the Mortal and roughly nudged the man's boot. The mortal moaned to the disruptrtion and turned to the other side. He yawned and mumbled incoherent words, "... Another... five minutes."

Haldir sent a confused glance to his brother, Rumil and swiftly lost his patiences. He nudged the mortal's boot, with more force to the point of literally striking him. The mortal yelped and shot up, his long hair in disarray and his green eyes widened. "Alright! I am up!"

The mortal cuddled his leg, comforting his foot with a moan before his face flushed with red from irritation. Sleepily his eyes drooped along with a yawn and long before he had a chance to shout at the rude awaking, there was an arrow at the tip of his nose. His weary eyes narrowed on the object, momentarily before his glanced across all the elves that had him surrounded like a beast. Realization came like a bucket of cold water as shifted away and yelped.

"Oh Wait!" His voice broke between a high pitch shrill and dry mouth. He shot up his hands in surrender, "Wait."

"Please don't shot." He shouted as he scooted back to be cornered by a large tree, his eyes frantically bounced between all the elves with fear and disbelief. One by one, his eyes searched all the fair men that looked too soft and creamy. Not enough facial hair to represent manhood. With arrows at his face, it would be best not to press his luck.

"You pass into the realm of the lady." Haldir said in the common tongue, his voice deepened and warned the mortal of his crimes. Slowly he approached, stared down the frightened human who frantically scanned them.

The mortal frowned, confused. "What lady?"

"Lady of the light." Haldir answered swiftly, his patient thinning by the second to this mortal's disrespect for the land and his lady.

"Oh, right." The mortal began slowly, pretended to understand before he cleared his throat and tried to play along. "Well would you please tell this Lady of the light, I am most apologetic for crossing into her…er realm."

"How did you come to these part, mortal?" Haldir ignored his false apologies, his voice stricken and forced the mortal to jump in surprise.

He wringled his nose to the name mortal but he was in no position to argue, "I… I was… I don't remember." He amended.

Haldir's eyes narrowed dangerously to this game that this mortal played. If he refused to corporate, then he'll consider him a threat to Lothlorien. He took a step closer, forced a chill down the mortal's spine as the mortal swallowed hard and was terrified to look directly at Haldir. Carefully, Haldir inquired in a haunting tone, "Do you believe lying would spare you?"

The mortal swallowed yet again, and tried to respond with a even voice, "Well, its no lie…"

"How did you come to this land?" Haldir interrupted and repeated for the last time, never broke eye contact and his voice deepened. The elves around him pulled back their arrows further, indicating their ready to shoot.

"By accident." The mortal finally broke, Hadlir watched as he slowly drooped his shoulders in defeat. It did not go unnoticed when the mortal removed the ring from his finger and hid it in his closed hand. Haldir leaned away from him, eyes carefully watched him when suddenly, the mortal got distracted by the arrows and inquired nonchalantly, "Those arrows are well done. Did you buy them on consignment store?"

Haldir cocked an eyebrow, loosing his patience and the Mortal continued, "And not to mention the armor."

_Tog i firion_… Galadriel whisped in Haldir's mind. Haldir sighed irritation.

While the mortal mumbled on about their arrows, Haldir pinched the bridge of his nose, gained curious eyes from his patrol. All awhile the mortal talked nonsense and instantly, Haldir inquired sharply. "What is your name Mortal?"

In a instantly, all the chatter ceased and the mortal's green eyes widened before he answered, "Thomas... Thomas Dougherty."

"Move." Hardir commanded, gestured his head to the side.

"Move? Where are we going." Thomas inquired when all the arrows fell from his face. He freely glanced around before he rose from the ground and dusted off his clothes.

"She is waiting." He ignored him and began to make haste back to Lothlorien.

'She? The lady of the light?" Thomas asked after him, slowly picked up pace when the other elves gestured to follow. To not aggravate the moody blond, Thomas swiftly followed more like jogged to keep up while murmured to himself, "What time did I get myself into...?"

* * *

To be continued...

That was rather a long chapter. I hoped it kept you intrigued until the next one comes out. There was a healthy does of suspense and mystery. Let me know what you think. Was it interesting? Boring? Hopefully different? Please let me know, until next time!

Elvish

No dirweg! - Beware

Na manwa - Be prepared

Tog i firion - Bring the mortal man


	2. The Traveller

The Traveller

* * *

The Traveller

"Whoa... wait a second." Scarlett interrupted, she held her hand up to cease Cheyenne's reading. The more she listened to these fairyrtales the more confused she became. Even more so, she was frustrated to how this was related to her father's death. With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose and close her eyes. The overwhelming desire to scream 'what is this?' became too great. After a moment, she glanced up at Cheyenne with a steady eye, "This doesn't make sense."

Cheyenne sighed and placed the page down and gestured toward it, "Well that's whats been written. My grandfather was taken.."

"By elves?" Scarlett completed her sentence, her voice dripped with sarcasm. This nonsense was not the answer she needed. "Is this a story? Was your grandfather a story teller?"

"I don't know." Cheyenne suddenly meant her level of sarcasm, her eyes slightly squinted. Her hand tightened with equal frustration. "I would ask but, he obviously is not here."

Scarlet sighed in disappointment as she leaned into the chair. Her attitude brought this on and it was getting them no where. She brushed her hand through her hair and lightly tucked on the ends. Despite it all, Scarlett preferred to deal with her father's forgotten bills than argue with Cheyenne. As she dropped her hand into her lap, she began in a soft tone, "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to figure things and I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Cheyenne's eyes softened to the despondent girl in her computer chair. Blue eyes downcast on the floor with weariness and sadness. It had been too rough on her, and regret came at Cheyenne like a bag full of bricks. "I'm sorry too."

Scarlett looked up at offered a small smile before she inquired, "What else is in the box?"

Cheyenne sighed heavily, peered into the chest, shifted the coins. Aimlessly, Cheyenne pulled out a strange stack of papers; strapped together by a thick string with a leather cover. Frowned to the sight, Cheyenne flipped through the delicate pages which appeared to be a plain manuscript, almost ready to be sent to a publisher. However, as she got closer to the end, she was left with empty pages; more like missing pages. There was indications that a chunk of pages were ripped out. Cheyenne lips pursed together into a tight line as she breathed heavily through her nose. She turned the book to the front page where the title stood, 'Lord of the Rings'. Flipping through the page again, bewildered.

"This is just an unfinished book, I think. Written by someone named Tolkien. Its a fantasy book." Cheyenne shrugged, believed it was not useful and dropped it on the bed.

"Lord of the Rings?" Scarlett repeated, tilted her head to the side as she reached for the book. "What an odd title. Never heard of it."

Cheyenne chuckled to herself, "I don't think anyone has. There a date on the cover letter. April 5,1954."

"Great..." Scarlett exaggerated was false excitement. Another question to her never ending list. The more she dug for the truth the more questions she had. As she pursed her lips, she flipped the pages slowly and drank in all the words. "Why would your grandfather have J.R...R Tolkien's unfinished book?"

Scarlett looked at Cheyenne for an answer that she never she would have. Cheyenne simply shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine, but my grandfather is turning out to be a very strange guy. Everything here has come from a point of time." Cheyenne moaned when she returned to the journal, gently flipping through the pages. Most of which were torn in half, burned or simply decaying from age.

Scarlett barely cracked a smile to Cheyenne's dry humor as she rolled the chair back to the computer desk. _J.R.R Tolkien._ A name that meant absolutely nothing to her, but obviously something to Thomas Dougherty. With a sigh, she returned to the computer and searched for the unknown author. Upon the search, there was one link to with only dates of birth and death, along with a small description of his life in the war and at Oxford. There was absolutely nothing about this fable book; Another dead end.

"When was your grandfather born?" Scarlett asked thoughtfully, flipped through the pages of the book.

Cheyenne looked away from the journal which she attempted to organize by the dates. Her small pile consist of ripped and burned pages but, the dates were clear as day while in another pile the dates were unknown. Tapped her fingers on the comforter bed whilst she remembered the precise dates. With a thought 'hmm', Cheyenne murmured with a uncertain voice, "October... 6th, 7th maybe of... between 1935-1939. I don't remember exactly."

If that were true, then this Tolkien gave this book to him when Thomas was in his teens. That alone wasn't for certain. With a hard and long sigh, Cheyenne pushed away from the computer with a heavy heart. She tugged on a string that had too many loose ends. When she left the chair behind with the book in hand, Scarlett sat onto the bed feeling rather disappointed. Her mind wondered to her family, Uncle John and Aunt Helen. How were they handling the death themselves? Scarlett hardly took time to inquire their feelings whist she remained cooped up in her house, rampaging through her father's forgotten dept.

Scarlett glanced to Cheyenne who appeared to be ruffled for the disoriented pages, "How is it going?"

Cheyenne glanced up, with a frown. "Its a complete mess. Was my grandfather truly this unorganized!?"

"I suppose..." Scarlett murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder why he would leave his journal like this. Look at the papers, its almost... destroyed. As if someone intended to burn them."

"Why would you think that?" Cheyenne inquired curiously.

"Well, it his journal. A journal is private. If he hated it that much then why keep it?" Scarlett asked more to herself then to Cheyenne. The scorch marks where only on the ends, whilst the others were ripped. From studying history, if documents were intended to be completely destroyed then nothing will be saved from the wreckage. All Thomas Doughtery's items must had some value to him. Sighing again, Scarlett grabbed a silver coin, started at it again. Where could these have come from?

Cheyenne shrugged to Scarlett's monologue and returned to her progress. After she could organize them, she intended to preserve their current state before they could decay further.

As time went on, the women used their skills from school to research further on the strange items of Thomas Dougherty. Scarlett attempted to clean the coins of the old grime between the cracks. Cheyenne took a break from organizing and sat on the edge of the bed with a long sigh. The hour was getting late and the storm deceased slowly. Cheyenne selected a page from the top of one stack, gently observing it before she decided to read.

Unknown date

"You are the one they call the Traveller." Lord Elrond commented, walked slowly around the counsel. At a high balcony was a large white table surrounded with Saruman and Thomas Dougherty. Recently, the mortal in question, arrived in Rivendell. However, his astounding appearance was what brought Saruman and Lord Elrond to the table. After a hundred years of Thomas Dougherty's disappearance in Lothlorien, he reappeared near the borders of Rivendell baring only his journal. Most elvish realms heard of this mysterious traveler who vanished from Lothlorien. The suspicious grew deeper than Thomas Dougherty had anticipated for there were secret scrolls that Lord Elrond preserved for hundred years that mentioned an unknown but curious mortal across the ages. He earned himself the name: The Traveller.

"I do not know what names 'they' call me." Thomas mumbled silently to himself as he shifted in his chair.

"Indeed." Saruman agreed. "Most interesting. Tell me Master Dougherty, how is it you disappeared nearly a hundred years ago and appeared, yet again under such circumstances to the borders of Rivendell? Not to mention you do not appear to be a day older than a young man."

Thomas's leg was shaking for the uncomfortable tension that grew on the open balcony. Under the table, he rubbed his sweaty hand on his pant legs. Swallowed a hard lump, Thomas avoided eye-contact with the one name Saruman who never faltered. Thomas was not in chains, but he was no fool. He was under house arrest with elven hospitality. Either he was carefully watched by a guard when he roamed Rivendell for a particular destination or watched by a guard in a luxury room behind a locked door and stripped of his personal belongings. Regardless, Thomas felt under pressure especially when meeting this Saruman the White, who later he knew would betray them all. He swallowed as he hesitantly said, "I can not say. I am not the first."

"The first traveller?" Saruman questioned carefully, he glanced down at his journal which was flipped out to all his writings and findings. It was unnerving to have his private journal read by a ... wizard.

"No." Thomas said truthfully, he stopped to rub his legs and clenched his hands tightly as he shifted uncomfortably in his stone chair. "I have a theory that I've developed back home that this is genetics related."

"Genetics?" Lord Elrond repeated slowly, unfamiliar with the term.

"Yes, DNA... Heredity." He tried to give them an easy route to understand genetic which only left him with blank faces. With a deep sigh, he clear his throat. "Right... I forgot we are seriously in the past. Genetic are living organisms. To make this simple... it patterns that been past down from parents to child... from generations. You know traits."

"I see. Very complex your time seems to be." Saruman said carefully, his finger tapped continuously on Thomas's journal. Thomas's eyes glanced yet again on the book, shifted again uncomfortably.

"Are you insinuating that you received this trait from your father." Lord Elrond questioned slowly.

"Possibly, I believe this trait skips generations." Thomas said slowly, his eyes glanced to the journal again. "However that is uncertain. Its unpredictable. Its rather random. "

"Its random, you say?" Lord Elrond repeated.

Thomas glanced up at the elven lord as he cleared his throat. "Yes, I can be here today and be gone tomorrow. I do not know how to control it yet. Its seems to happen when... some happens. Stress, near death experience..."

"How long has this been affecting you?" Lord Elrond asked gently, he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Recently. As a child, I never noticed anything but when I became adult, everything changed. When I was almost mauled by a great bear during a hunting trip, I appeared during French revolutionary war...which was..." Thomas was about to explain with he was rudely interrupted.

"No!" Saruman shouted, his voice rang with authority. "Do not speak of the future. We will not tempt fate further. Already, you are creating ripples in the timeline, we know not the consciences of these action which you brought." Saruman uttered, his voice deepened with resolve.

"Is this work of evil?" Lord Elrond inquired of the great wizard with much interest.

"Evil?" Thomas repeated, his voice cracked. "Whoa! I am not evil!"

"No one has accused you but you are indeed inflicted with magic that you can not control. Somehow, magic interfered with your bloodline and now, we have a time traveller." Saruman exclaimed as he rose from his chair, finished to listen to whatever else the mortal had to say. Even when Thomas attempt to speak, Saruman silenced him with a wave of his hand. He paced around the table toward the mortal who cringed and began to tremble.

"My lord Saruman?" Lord Elrond questioned, but he went unnoticed.

"You, master Dougherty are dangerous." Saruman announced, his voice full of authority with no room for arguments. When he stood in front of him, Thomas shifted uncomfortably. "You have meddled in time. We know not what has been changed but to ensure further damage, you will remain in Isengard behind a barrier."

Thomas's heart raced with each word that was spoken. His head pounded as his lips parted in fear. A fear of a sentence which he had little control of. Before it all, his eyes glanced to the journal and ...

* * *

"Where is the rest of it?" Cheyenne moaned, completed intrigued to only be disappointed for the end of the paper was burnt. She groaned loudly and tossed the paper to the side. Cheyenne glared at the remaining documents, debating if she wanted to read further.

"He was a time traveler?" Scarlett inquired incredulous, broke the silence that developed itself in the room. Her eyes drifted, lost deep in her own thoughts to this odd story. Her eyes jumped from the journal to the chest of items. Was that why he had all these items from across time? Then down to the coin in her hand. Was this truly a piece of history? Her finger circled the small coin, deeply thinking as her mind slowly and attempted to connect the dots. "Is it... possible?"

Cheyenne glanced up when she heard Scarlett's distance tone, frown to find her eyes wide open and lost in thought. Now Scarlett was a believer. It was a nice story but stories are stories. Most are based on some kind of truth but not this truth. Time traveling, elves and wizard... how could it be even remotely possible. Cheyenne sighed and said with a logical mind, "This got to be a story, there is no way my grandfather could travel through time. Its impossible. These places: Rivendell, Lothlorien... they don't exist."

Scarlett glanced up at Cheyenne, her eyebrows knitted together. "Well something is here. History itself is not all certain. There are many blackholes in the timeline."

"Yes, I know." Cheyenne sighed deeply, brushed her hands through her short blond locks. "But, if he was a time traveler, than so am I. He said it was genetic related. But I can't travel anywhere, nor has my mother."

"Your mom?" Scarlett repeated, in a dream like voice and no longer connected to the reality. "Call your mother."

"What? Are you crazy, silly girl?"" Cheyenne shrieked, took a step back and shook her head wildly, "No, no..no, no no! I am not calling my mother."

"Why not, Cheyenne." Scarlett stood from the chair, full of determination. She rounded the bed, and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Your mother never wanted to speak of your grandfather. He was always gone... but to where? Have you consider maybe your mother knows more than you think?"

"Seriously Scarlett?" Cheyenne inquired incredulous.

"Yes, look at all these things. The eighteen hundred chest, ancient coins..." Scarlett began listing, her voice began eager.

"That has not be proved." Cheyenne cut her off with a dry voice.

Scarlett paused, stared into her friend's eyes. Proof. If there was a way to proof that this absurd idea was true... Before she could continue on the thought, she inquired; more like challenged her friend, "What if it was?"

Cheyenne sighed hard, wanted to laugh at this deranged conversation. After she calmed herself, she said gently but also with a slight force, "That does not mean my grandfather can travel through time."

"No one has seen him since." Scarlett challenged again, her voice slowly rising. "Where else could he have gone?"

"Out of town, out of state. Scarlett, this proves nothing." Cheyenne voice strengthened, determined to slow down her young friend to believing in fairy tales.

"Call your mother, she may know something." Scarlett pushed.

"And what if she does, Scarlett? What is with this obsession with my grandfather?" Cheyenne inquired, started to be more worried than excited. Her young friend was leaning too heavily on this thread. Pushing for answers that would not satisfy her need to close the wound in her heart. Objectively, Cheyenne pulled away, took out the coin from Scarlett's hand and inquired gently, "I know Roy said my grandfather's name but..."

"I don't know!" Scarlett exclaimed louder than she intended as she back away from Cheyenne. A strange feeling grew in her chest, it swelled until she could no longer handle the pressure. She needed to know. There were too many questions, not just for Thomas Dougherty but about herself. A strange suspicion that all wasn't what it's meant to be. Things simply did not add up. "I.. It more than your grandfather. Its many things..."

"What things?" Cheyenne inquired.

"I can't explain it. Things are not right. I can feel it..." Scarlett silent herself before her voice grew louder. Her emotions were getting the best of her. "I just need to know."

Cheyenne remained silent, deep in her own thoughts as she watched the uncertainty lingering in Scarlett's eyes. If it meant that much to her... Cheyenne thought as she reached for her phone line which rested on her night stand. "Alright."

Scarlett worried expression melted into a smile which made Cheyenne cringe for she had to face her mother on a sensitve topic. With a deep sigh, she dialed the number and hesitantly pushed the call button. As it rang, her heart dropped and anticipated the anger in her mother's voice. She hoped her mother would not pick up the line. _please don't mother_.

"Ciao Bella." Her mother answered the phone much to Cheyenne's dismay. She pinched the bridge of her nose whilst her mother continued on, unaware of Cheyenne's reasons. "How is Montana? I hear there is a storm."

"Yeah, I know." Cheyenne jumped in swiftly, as her nerves tingled with anticipation. With a hard swallow, she hesitantly inquired. "Hey mom. I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course. Is something wrong?" Her mother's voice suddenly dropped into a worry one.

"No...no, I just wanted to know about my... grandfather, Thomas Dougherty." Cheyenne mumbled, her throat tightened. When there was a pause from the other line, her stomach dropped. Pursed her lips tightly, she glanced to Scarlett who listened intently. Her head tilted to the side, as if she could hear their discussion. Cheyenne frowned and turned away.

"Cheyenne." Annabella warned, her voice tight. "How many times have I..."

"I know." Cheyenne interrupted, her voice grew confident. She was an adult, not a child anymore. Cheyenne shook off her tingling nerves and said firmly, "I am not longer a child mother. I need to know everything about him."

There was a suffering sigh from the other line. "Very well." Cheyenne blinked in surprised to how quickly her mother gave in. "But only for this one time, Cheyenne. I will tolerate this discussion. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Well, your grandfather... he was." Annabella's voice trailed off for a moment followed by a pause, "Crazy. He was crazy, Cheyenne. He spoke more about history and event than anything else. He brought home strange items, things I've never seen before and even gave me special necklace from... I don't know from where. He could enrapture me in his stories and make you feel like you were there..."

All the while her mother spoke, Cheyenne felt pity for her mother. In her tone, it was so gentle and soft to the point that Cheyenne believed that she sincerely missed him. Guilt filled her to force her mother to open old wounds. As she closed her eyes solemnly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Scarlett offered her comfort. "...He was lean, always lean. I don't think he ate very well. He dressed in such weird clothing. He was certainly a strange man."

Once her mother slowly came to an end, Cheyenne inquired, "Mother, what stories did he tell you?"

"He read me a book. I can't remember the name but it was written by someone named Token, Totem, Tolkien. Something like that, its been many years Cheyenne, I can't remember." Cheyenne's eyes jumped to the manuscript. "He read me fairytales."

"Mom... how... when..?" Cheyenne stuttered, attempted to bring out a question that had her tongue tied. As her eyes swiftly went across the chest, she pushed. "How did you come by this chest?"

"The chest?" Annabella inquired incredulous followed by a pause. "Cheyenne Margret did you invade my father's personal belongings?"

Wrong question. Cheyenne moaned to herself and nodded. "Yes, mom. I did."

"Cheyenne you should know..." Her voice slowly raising in reprimand.

"Mom! please." Cheyenne interrupted swiftly, she did not need this conversation to be derailed. "Just tell me where did these things come from?"

Annabella sighed heavily to the point Cheyenne could picture the steam coming out of her ears. "I do not know where most of the things are from. His journal was abandoned a long time ago. I tried to read them but... The chest was founded in Italy, in our second cousin home in the North."

Cheyenne knitted her eyebrows together when she thought about her distance family in Italy. They were from Thomas Doughtery's mother, who gave the land to her first born son; Thomas's brother William, an investor across Europe. While Thomas inherited mostly money and used it to travel to America with his dual citizenship. After Thomas's father moved to Italy, he married an Italian woman with a long family history of nobles. Beyond that, the history of her family was unknown. They were rather wealthy family and often sent Cheyenne expensive gifts such as her Gucci purse. When Cheyenne visited her family, the mansion was filled with old artifacts that she never took to time to find out from where.

"Thats where the chest came from, after, his family believed he was dead they sent me his belongings." Annabella voice dropped dramatically to a softer one, "Sweetie there nothing to tell. He was always gone, chasing stories. There is nothing else, Cheyenne. Thomas Dougherty is simply someone who no longer exist and we will treat it as such. Understand? Now, let us not speak of it again."

Cheyenne sighed. "Ok."

"Good, alright sweetie, I must return to work. Abbracie!" She said before she hung up the phone first.

Cheyenne hung up the phone, forlorn and turned to Scarlett who waited patiently. "My mom told me the same thing that I've heard all my life but she said he read her stories. This story." Cheyenne grabbed the manuscript and sat on the edge of the bed, never broke eye contact.

Scarlett nodded her head in comprehension, but despite the lack of faith from her friend, she would not be swayed. Through it all, she had the overwhelming desire to have comfort from her late mother. Her determination on this matter grew. To why she was so determined, she suppose it was a long time feeling that she simply did not belong. Over the years, she suppressed it and forced herself to accept her life but... her resolve unraveled. It began with the death of her father. Her stronghold clasped beneath her and her life in the real world broke. There was no going back and simply living a lie. Thomas Dougthery, a person who meddled into her life and ruined her friend's. Her eyes glanced to the Tolkien's book; there was a slight feeling radiated from those pages. A gut feeling that she should see this through. Perhaps, she'll find the answers that she sought.

"Would you like me to read this?" Cheyenne inquired as she sat on the edge of the bed.

A small smile grew on Scarlett's lips as she nodded faintly and laid on the bed, listened to Cheyenne's voice, "When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday..."

As time went on, Cheyenne flipped page by page through the strange fairy tale of Lord Of the Rings. In such time, Cheyenne found herself perched against the headboard of the bed, with one leg bent and the other stretched out. Between yawns and weakened voice from exhaustion, Scarlett listened to her friend slowly past out at the end of chapter three. She glanced at her weary friend who slouched at the bed with her mouth opened. Suppressed a giggle to the sight, Scarlett quietly, helped Cheyenne into the bed and removed the items of the comforter and left them at the foot of the bed. Soft snores fought against the dying sounds of the storm.

Quietly, Scarlett approached the window and sat on the ledge, deep in thought. There would be no rest for her. And so, she waited until her friend awakened from her slumber.

* * *

To be continued...

Well, I'm not entirely sure if i like this chapter, but there you go. Have I completely lost you yet? Or have you picked up on the settled clues in this story? Don't worry more of the puzzle in the next chapter! Don't forget to review, ;)

Italian translation:

Ciao Bella : Hello beautiful

Abbracie : Hugs


	3. The Truth Hurts

Hello again! Sorry for the delay. Things have been nutty! First off, I would like to thank you all for the reviews. It was completely unexpected but made me smile. I wasn't entirely sure this story would get anything because its totally an AU. Sorry for the chapter being so short, the next one will be up soon! Well here is my next chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Declaim

* * *

The Traveller

* * *

The Truth Hurts

The following day, the storm had past overnight and left the Montana's skies wide open to the sun light once more. The summer was Scarlett's particular favorite. It was warm, full of light and the winds gently breeze across the bloomed wildflowers. The cold never bothered her but she hated being cooped up in her house during the winters. To the irony, Scarlett found herself stuck in her house regardless, during the summer time. When Scarlett and Cheyenne returned to the ranch the next morning, Cheyenne kept her word and assist with Roy's stuff. Whilst Cheyenne went through one corner of the attic, Scarlett found herself in the other corner, shifting box after box. Strange thoughts of Thomas Dourgherty never left her, in fact, she never slept through the night. Her mind turned and went in circle whilst Cheyenne snored through the storm.

In the attic, Scarlett moved a large box to the side, filled with old Christmas decoration that were never used since her mother's death. After her mother died, Roy had little interest with holidays since his wife's enthusiasm always led them to overly decorate the house. Scarlett wanted to organized the boxes, best to her advantage to save time on what needed to be tossed and what needed to be searched through. The attic was filled with her mother's belongings that her father could no longer handle. Scarlett never gave much thought to true love but when her mother parted, a piece of Roy died as well. He grew quiet and distance; in his eyes, Scarlett could see his broken heart and heard his sobs in the night when he believed she was asleep. Never again Scarlett would question the power of love. For her father counted down the days until they would be reunited in death. Things simply no longer matter to him, he allowed the house and himself go to waste.

After shifting five christmas boxes, she found a small box beneath two boxes with her name on it. Frowned, as to why her belonging would be up here. All her things would be with her or otherwise, she'll simply donate what she didn't want to keep. Rat pack wasn't her style. Swiftly she freed the box from the weight of the other two boxes. Scarlett knelt down, frowned at the ink that slowly faded away. Before she could open it, a voice rang through the hall, "Miss Scarlett?"

Rosa thick accent bellowed through the attic and it surprised Scarlett that Rosa could sneak up on her without a sound. The elder lady was slow but quiet on her feet and spoke loudly. Scarlett's heart jumped in surprise as she swiftly stood up and greeted Rosa who stuck her head in. Her toes were on the borderline of the threshold, feared to enter due to her father's complains about the attic. In one hand she held a plate wrapped with foil. "Miss Scarlett?"

The heavy accent made Scarlett smile and came into Rosa's line of vision. "Morning Rosa."

Rosa relaxed when she saw Scarlett in the corner with a soft smile. The whine in the wooden floor drew Rosa's eyes to the left to find Cheyenne removing her gloves. Her blond hair was bundled up in a messy hairdo and wore her favorite short jeans and a tank top. "Morning miss Cheyenne." She greeted friendly and she gathered the courage to step into the attic. "Your father's lawyer left you a voice mail. What are you doing?"

Scarlett frowned for a moment about the lawyer and then simply shrugged nonchalantly and offered a tender smile, "I'm cleaning."

The pain in her voice was well covered since Rosa nodded in comprehension with a smile. She appeared to be pleased that Scarlett wasn't moping and refusing to eat. Rosa handed the plate to Scarlett, " "Your father did not like anyone here."

Scarlett's smile slowly faded, her eyes downcast and she nodded. "I know, well... that doesn't matter no more."

"Oh dear, I am sorry." She came deeper into the attic, frightened that she upset the young brunette. "It will get better. Here, eat. Food is good for the soul."

Scarlett smiled at Rosa's loving heart. Always took care of her, even when she deemed herself adult and no longer required someone to care for her. Rosa would simply tend to her regardless. The maid in question, moved to Montana years ago when she met her mother in Mexico for a trip. Her parents strived to move Rosa to the states and for that, Rosa never left the ranch. Rosa became part of the family and enjoyed caring for the Thatchers as if they were her own family. "Thank you."

"Thank you Rosa." Cheyenne thanked when Rosa waved and turned to leave. She approached the plate with hungry eyes. "I'm starving."

Scarlett giggle softly and took a bit into the sweet bread before handing the plate to the eager arms of Cheyenne. With a moan, Scarlett bit into the bread again. She loved Rosa homemade food. There was nothing like it. She turned her attention back to the box whilst Cheyenne went to her corner with the plate. Scarlett was a light eater whilst Cheyenne _can_ eat everything without gaining a single pound. It was natural to simply hand over the plate.

Scarlett kneeled down and opened the box after she licked her fingers. At the base of the box, there was nothing but documents. Curious, she dug out a pile of documents and place them on the floor. It never occurred to her that her family kept records. Her parents were all for nick knacks but not for old documents. Nothing was kept, save for important documents that were in her father's file cabinet in the study. This was strange. She frowned as she browsed through them. Her eyebrows knitted closer and closer.

Medical records, school records, more records.

They all related to her. Her eyebrows knitted closer and closer as she skimmed the pages halfheartedly. Old and useless paperwork, Scarlett mused to herself. When she was about to pile up the records to take downstairs to the file cabinet, one particular white sheet came to her view. Frowned, her lips parted when the words on the top of header wrote, 'Adoption'

Wait. Scarlett halted and pulled out the old slip forms. Her eyes scanned frantically over the information. Her eyes widened as she made her way down. She was adopted? Her biological parents, birth date, birth location... they were all unknown. As her heart beat faster and faster, Scarlett's hands tightened on the document. Why would her family keep something like this from her? No one could replace her parents, but she had the right to know. As the world seemed to fade, Scarlett placed a weary hand on her forehead. Tension swelled to the point that she had to take deep breaths to release the pressure from her chest. The sounds of the wood whining warned her that Cheyenne approached from behind.

"Hey do you want to last one?" She asked carelessly when she bit into the bread, unsuspecting what had occurred.

Scarlett's hands tightened due to her emotions followed by anger. They had no right to keep this from her! Swiftly, Scarlett jumped to her family, surprised Cheyenne who shrieked and dropped the plate to the ground. The plate shattering and squashed the remaining bread onto the dusty floor. Without further delay, Scarlett ignore Cheyenne's complaints and hastily escaped the attic, jumped the last few steps and vaguely listened for Cheyenne calling her name who chased her down the stairs with heels.

"Scarlett!"

Scarlett ignore her and nearly knocked down Rosa when she flew out of the house with Cheyenne on her tail. As she ran across the porch, she ignored Buck when he greeted her. She hopped over the white fence with swift and elegant movements. Her hair below behind her, the horse rallied on the other side of the fence and followed her toward her uncle's house. She didn't care who glanced at her with strange looks. It didn't matter if she came unannounced or planned to confront her family for this lie.

Without any consideration or a care in the world, Scarlett thrust opened the screen down, the door hit the wall and she marched into her Uncle's house. She rounded the small door frame and into the small kitchen where her family was eating lunch and appeared to be ruffled from the disruption. They were without a doubt surprised to her abrupt actions when her uncle murmured, "What on earth?"

"Scarlett Francine Thatcher!..." Her aunt exclaimed as she rose from her chair and left her unfinished meal.

"What is this?!" Scarlett interrupted her aunt with a growl as she slammed the document on the table with a loud thud. The table shook, almost forced her uncle's cup to fall over. From a distance, Scarlett heard Cheyenne calling for her as she gently opened the door and came to an abrupt stop to the scene before her. "These are Adoption papers!"

Cheyenne muffled a sharp gasp and kept her distance from the infuriated brunette. Her uncle hesitantly glanced at the paper on the table as his face went completely drained. Her aunt was too shock to scold her as she shared a hesitant glance with her uncle who urged her back to her chair. When he cleared his throat, the old man twisted himself to face Scarlett with a sober face, "Scarlett..."

"How...? Why did you keep this from me?" Scarlett exclaim, her eyes almost in tears. If her father were still alive, she would be having this talk with him but since Uncle John and Aunt Helen were her only relatives, they would take the fall. Her arms shook, as all the emotion from this past week came crashing down. "I am twenty years old, I had the right to know. Did you believe that I'll love you less if I knew?!"

"Scarlett listened..." Uncle John attempted softly.

"No!" Scarlett exclaimed, made John sigh deeply as she shared a look with his wife who nodded her head. "No more excuses. I want the truth and I want it now."

Her uncle shifted uncomfortable before his sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Gently he pushed aside his meal and gave Scarlett his full attention. "Alright, come and sit down."

Her uncle spoke to her like a frightened horse. Scarlett swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder at Cheyenne who nodded her head toward the table. After she demanded the truth, she feared it even more so. This week had been full of heartache mingled with lies. Her uncle had always been a fair and hardworking man and if he was hesitant about something, it meant she should be worried. In the distance she heard Cheyenne leaving the house to give them privacy. When she had the strength, she stared at her uncle with unblinking eyes and took a seat.

Every muscle in her body tensed as her uncle took a deep breath. He began calmly, "Yes, you were adopted." Scarlett breathed sharply that she didn't realized she held. "Your parents could not have children, they tried for years but they were wonderful parents..."

"How is Thomas Dougherty connected to this?" Scarlett cut him off, not in the mood to hear how great her parents were. She already knew that her parents were amazing but none of the less, they lied to her all these years. And it took her father's death to dig for the truth.

"W-well." He stuttered, cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Forgive me, Roy." He said more to himself. "I promised your father to never speak of it but... Thomas Dougherty... found you."

"Found me?" She inquired incredulously, not what she was expecting.

"Yes. You were a infant. No one knew who were your parents were. Thomas... he was friends with Roy. He brought you to Roy out of desperation." Uncle John said calmly and his wife a laid an encouraging hand on her forearm and kept her eyes away from Scarlett, "The system could not have you."

Scarlett leaned into the chair, confused by this information. More as to why or where did Thomas Dougherty found her? As she breathed slowly, she realized Thomas Dougherty affected her life more than she thought. She barely whispered, "Why?"

"I don't know. Not even Roy knew. All Thomas said was to keep you safe and secure. And not to ask questions. Roy and Rhea wanted you the moment you came into their lives and so, we didn't. This here?" He grabbed the paper and shook it. "Its forgery. To keep you safe from the social services from taking you and placing you into foster care."

Scarlett dug her hand through her hair, almost wanted to pull out her strands from her very scalp. "Did you even search for my biological parent? Have you ever considered that I might have been kidnapped? And there are people looking for me?"

"No." He said, almost offended. He straightened and his voice tightened when continued, "There was no record of you...anywhere. Thomas disappeared shortly after he brought you here. He said you were special. Different. And we never saw him since"

"Different?" Scarlett repeated slowly, "How do you mean?"

"At first," Her aunt joined the conversation with a despondent voice, "We didn't understand but as you grew, we began to. You were quiet, very stealthily. Your mother was worried that you can run off without a sound. You could ear things from the other side of the ranch and slept with your eyes open. You sometime foresaw events..."

"What?" Scarlett interrupted. "I don't remember that?"

"You were five." Her uncle started again, "You said my son would die in an airplane crash in Salt Lake City if I allowed him to fly to California to visit his aunt. You could imagine something like that would scare us, so we didn't allow him. The next day, the air plane crashed landed on a layover and killed many people. You were oddly strong and have a strong connection to nature and animals."

Scarlett tried to remember those events but nothing came to her. When her Aunt disappeared from the room, and entered with a small box in her hand. "Here. Your mother wanted me to perserve this when she past away. This was your's. I think its best you have them back."

A small wooden box was handed to her. Scarlett wordlessly took it and swiftly rose from the chair and left the house. When Her aunt was about to follow, her uncle snatched her hand. "Let her be, Helen."

* * *

Scarlett came into the house where Cheyenne paced around the living room, nervous about what happened. Not a single word was spoken, but Cheyenne knew things were simply getting worse. The young twenty year old's heart broke from the truth and almost wished she never knew. Cheyenne wordless embraced the young brunette who hesitantly return the hug. Gently, Cheyenne's finger brushed through the long brown hair. It was awhile before they pulled away from each other. Gently Cheyenne brushed the single tear that escaped from the corner of Scarlett's eye.

"Do you want to talk?" Cheyenne asked softly. When Scarlett refused to make eyes contact, Cheyenne's heart constricted.

Scarlett shook her head, refused the offer and simply went upstairs to be alone. Upon her bed, she opened the box to find a strange amulet with a small silver flower, two leaves twisted to a spiral beneath the flower. Shimmering silver and almost completely light. she put it on and tucked it beneath her shirt. She leaned onto the bed and her heart slowed down to a mediative state as her eyes became blank. Rest was all she needed.

* * *

The days went by as Scarlett continued to clean through her attic, avoiding family that called the phone line. It was simply uncomfortable to speak about her adoption, which should have been known to her years ago. Her father neglected too much after his wife died and even, in its measures, Scarlett had to admit to herself that she was neglected. Her family simply left that under the rug to rot and wait until the bitter truth to seep its way into their lives with mistrust and lies. Cheyenne left Sunday night to return home; Spring break was over and Cheyenne would have to return to school that Monday morning. It gave Scarlett time to think things through while she waited that Monday morning for the lawyer to arrive about her father's will and debt.

Scarlett sighed as she leaned into the chair at her small table in the kitchen where more mail present more bills. It piled up in her father's office with warnings of further delays. Anticipation grew in her chest with claws as her nerves tightened. She opened her father's old Dell laptop to pay the bills and attempted to rebuild any credit that her father lost for the ranch. Her sensitive hear picked up Buck's heavy step boots upon the wooden floor as he shuffled into the kitchen, nervous and guilty.

"Mornin' Scarlett." He murmured, brushed past the table toward the kitchen to pour himself some coffee.

Ever since Scarlett discovered her adoption papers and proved that all who lived on the ranch lied to her, they simply tip-toed around her like a fragile glass doll. They feared she would break. Scarlett sighed heavily, almost annoyed how Buck was behaving. "Morning Buck."

He walked around the counter, stood behind her and inquired, "What you have there?"

"Bills."

He opened his mouth to speak but swiftly closed his mouth and quickly drank his coffee and maneuvered out from the kitchen. Buck could never handle uncomfortable situations and preferred to simply ignore.

A soft knock came to the door, the lawyer; Scarlett thought. With a sigh, she approached the front door where a man dressed in a fine black suit waiting with his suitcase in hand. Aged between late forties and early fifties, clean and sleek black hair with evidence of grey streaks in his hair. Shaved and tall, waited patiently at the door while examining the landscape.

"Morning." Scarlett welcomes when she opened the door and allowed the lawyer to step in.

"Good Morning." He was awfully cheerful, as he reached out for her hand, "You must be Scarlett Thatcher. I was your father's lawyer for while. I am sorry to hear of his passing."

"Thank you."

"Is your Uncle about?" He inquired in his polite voice. "I met with him last week?"

She grimaced, and shook her head. "You saw him last week?"

She her uncle was caring for much of the expenses for the funeral, but never occurred to her that he spoke to her lawyer before she did. They went to the table where Scarlett hastily cleared it from the paperwork stacked on the wooden table. The lawyer looked up and smiled, "Yes, he is the executor for the outstanding bills of the ranch. I had thought you were aware of that."

She avoided blushing to her carelessness, "It must have slipped my mind."

Her eyes glanced to the bill next to her. Then these bills were stacked like a mountain where bills for this ranch, her uncle's worries. Silently, he slid the Will across the table toward Scarlett, "I would have hoped to speak to you last week regarding your father's Will but your uncle said you were preoccupied. I wanted to make sure you have seen your father's will."

Scarlett blinked once, possibly twice. Her father kept a will? There was much that was hidden from her, which only made her angrier. Hesitantly her eyes scanned the document which summarized that house would be hers but the property fell upon her uncle which would later be past on to her cousin who undoubtably past away two year ago. In any case, her Uncle was the executor and the outstanding bills of the ranch would fall to him. Her previous thoughts about selling the ranch was not up to her, only the house to be sold by her. Perhaps her uncle would take the house?

She sighed as she looked up to the lawyer, "What is there to do now?"

"I would need you to sign this document that simply state you agree to this. The house and all you father's belonging are yours' to do what you wish. As I said before I wanted you to review this before too much time past." He said calmly.

She nodded and signed the document. Her signature felt like a pile bricks upon her shoulders. The house was officially hers, along with it payments that she struggled to pay.

* * *

Night came fast and darkened the land with dark shades of sparkling stars. Scarlett stole through her window and climbed onto of the roof with ease, carried nothing but the 'Lord of the Rings' manuscript that Cheyenne borrowed to her. She found her comfortable spot, perched next to the attic window and her back against the roof texture. Flipping through the pages, intrigued by the story. There was no need for her flashlight, for her eyes pierced through the darkness and scanned the words like it was day.

She hoped to derive her mind from areas that made her felt guilty. Such as who were her real parents were? And how she was founded by Thomas Doughtery. Her mind turned with insanity until she groaned. Guilt clawed her for she knew she had wonderful parents no matter their shortcomings. Especially when she wondered who was the woman gave birth to her and simply gave her up without a thought. It angered her but she couldn't regret it. It was constant battle in her chest.

With a sigh, she founded where Cheyenne left off and continued when Mr. Frodo met Strider at Bree...

* * *

To be continued


	4. Investigation

The Traveller

* * *

Investigation

The days past without so much of a blink. Scarlet had a mental list of those who she wished to avoid, including Cheyenne despite their advances. It was weary to be the center of their attention. Could they not simply understand that she needed time to process these past few weeks? Her thoughts had been twisted of what if and especially of those who gave her up to Thomas Doughtery as a infant. What could had happened that she would be past off? Were her birth parents dead? Or simply did not want her? These thoughts consumed her with self-esteem worthiness and doubt. To top it off, her father's funeral approached no more than two days away.

She sighed as she leaned her head against the moving car rest. To ease her mind on such things, Scarlet drove to town in her father's old blue pick-up truck. The vehicle had twenty years on it engine and worked like a champ. Down a main road of small homes, Scarlet turned up a long twisting hill. One hand steered the wheel while the other laid securely on the manual stick. As she reached the peak, the morning sun illuminated the town with life. Her college came into view on the corner of the highway.

The parking lot was dreadfully packed which forced Scarlett to park across the street in front of a convenient store. She walked on the campus while she smiled at those she recognized from her classes. Many of them were archeologist or linguistic majors. Students sprawled across the lawn in stereotyped groups. There were the musician, singing to the dead silence and allowing outsider to watch them with awe. She past by a group of men who debated on scientific matters which she had no hope to understand. None she would call friend, for most either simply stare or avoided her.

Scarlet past through the halls of the main building and reached to the third level until her previous professor's door came into view. It was hope that he was on his break and not mingling with students. Her sender fingers nocked on the wooden door as she waited patiently. The sound of chair scraping the floor came to her sensitive ears which brought a smile to her lips. Thank her lucky stars that he was in. The door slowly opened to reveal an older esteemed professor who specialized in archeology and teaches history as a retired man. His thick grey hair was gelled back and his beard was nicely trimmed. His brown suit screamed 1970's.

"Well, hello Miss Thatcher, I was not expecting to see you here." He sounded genuinely surprised, his voice thick with an english accent. Behind him Scarlet spot another professor who she remembered as Professor Knight. An english and literature teacher. He rose from the leather chair with a small smile.

"Hello Professor Buren." Scarlet greeted, spared a hesitant glance to Professor Knight and said apologetically, "I'm sorry for interrupting, I can come back..."

"Not to worry. Professor Knight and I were finished." He said calmly and turned to the other professor, "It always a pleasure Rich."

Professor Knight nodded and held out his hand to the Professor Buren, "I'll see you tomorrow, old friend." He turned to Scarlett with a sympathetic smile, "Miss Thatcher, I am sorry to hear of your father. Hang in there."

Scarlet mustered a smile to conceal the remembrance of her father's death as he past by with his suitcase in hand. Expectedly, she turned back to Professor Buren who smiled and widen the door for her, "Come in, come in. Tell me Miss Thatcher, what can I do for you. I was under the impression you've dropped out of school. I am most sincere about your father."

Scarlet inwardly cringed as she forced the thought away. As she went to the leather chair dropped her purse at her feet and Professor Buren sought out his seat on the opposite side. "Thank you... for taking the time for me."

He folded his hands on the desk and said nonchalantly, "Of course, I'm always here for my students." His eyes examined the young girl apprehensively. Compared to when she attended his classes, Scarlet grew paler, oddly skinny and weary. There were slight indication of dark rings beneath her eyes and her face was rather shallow. His hands tightened in discontent. There was never a time when he wouldn't take extra steps for his students, especially those who had the desire to strive. It disappointed him when she dropped out but sympathized with her reasons. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a question." Scarlet grabbed her purse from the ground and pulled out from the side pocket a silver coin that Cheyenne allowed her to research. When she handed it to him, he straighten with eagerness. "I was wondering if you can help me with this. It an old coin but I don't know from where or when."

Curious, Professor Buren put on his glasses on and twisted the relic in his hands. With a thoughtful hum, he pulled out an old book from his desk and began flipping through the pages. Images of ancient currencies and other items filled every page which lured Scarlett forward to catch a glimpse. "Hmm, I don't have anything here or seen such as this. It is made of real silver. The designs are fascinating and in quite good condition. It could possibly from an old kingdom in Europe. I would wager in Italy."

"Italy?"

"Oh yes, Europe has much history that long been forgotten. Most believed the records of the ancient world were destroy to preserve their secrets. This might very well be a piece to the past. Long before Rome and Persia or even Macedonia, there was talk about findings in all over Europe." He rose from his chair and went to his filling cabinet. His fingers flipped through the files until he pulled one out a slim file. When he returned to his chair, he pulled out a single photo that was behind a variety of photos and thesis from different scholars of the early 1900's to modern times, "You see here? This photo was taken in Northern Italy in 1945"

His fingers pointed along the printed picture of what appeared to be a destroyed mountain side with white building stones that could have once shaped a city. "There was once a city here. There's evidence that proved this was once a foundation of seven levels with more than hundred feet difference. It once constructed here and here..." His pulled out another picture and layout it next to the other. This one was a close up of a destroyed gate. "The Great Gate, as it was called by it founders. Remarkable I tell you."

Scarlet scanned through each with undivided fascination. History had always been her passion but, she failed to see the connection. "Very interesting."

"Indeed." Professor Buren agreed with enthusiasm but his voice faltered with disappointment, "Unfortunately its completely destroyed, far worse than anything we've ever encountered, even Troy. Its as if was all history was erased here. Scholars call this the White Ghost."

Scarlet cracked a skeptical smile, "The White Ghost. Interesting name for a ruin."

Her professor muffled a deep chuckle and nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Its fitting in a way. Covered in white with ghosts of the past. There speculations that it once called the White City. It was mentioned in an old documents that was founded in the early 1900s in Italy but...

"The White City?" Scarlet tested it out, unintentionally cutting him off. She frowned to the unfamiliar city. "I've never heard of it."

"There is not much to go on which is why its not popular amongst the media." He explained, then looked back in awe. "It was once a city perched on at mountain, it faced every direction."

Professor Buren collected the photos before organizing them into the file. Discontent with the lack of information, Scarlet's eyes glanced to the silver coin on the desk near her professor. She inquired curiously, "What makes you think the coin is linked to this city?"

"Well, look here." Professor Buren returned her sights another photo that displayed a destroyed courtyard. "See here, there are old tree roots, it must have once been a large tree. There's documents that were salvaged with a description of this insignia on this coin. Of course this is all theory until there is substantial proof."

"Have there been any expeditions?" Scarlet asked curious, perhaps she could find her way there. She can be the next Indiana Jones.

Professor Buren smiled patronizing, "Not since the early sixties. Perhaps one day there will be funding to explore this magnificent place."

Her smile fell... She was never good with a whip. Pouted, she questioned with a small strand of hope, "Do you have any other information about the White City or Ghost...?"

"Only what's in here, I'm afraid." He handed her the file and Scarlet scanned through the vague information of relics founded in the city along with images of close up damaged architecture. "Unfortunately, that is the only information I have."

"I see." Scarlet said with a desponded voice as she returned the file to his professor.

Professor frown to her disappointment. He grabbed the coin and twisted it in his hands; curious to why her sudden interest in an unknown city. Most of his students, even the talented ones never knew of it's existences. It was never as interesting as Rome or Egypt. "If I may ask, how did you come by this?"

She fell silent for a moment, then answered vaguely, "It was packed away."

"Ah, well if you ever decide to to anything with it, be sure to donate it to an archive." He suggested handing back the coin to her. When he rose from his chair, Scarlet assumed their little meeting has reached it's ends. The professor probably had other classes and students to attend to. She quickly collected her items and followed him to the door. As a gentleman would, he opened the door for her.

"Of course. Thank you for your time." She offered a smile which by far was genuine.

"Anytime."

Sighing, she disappeared from her professor's sight when she rounded the corner toward the staircase. The trip was not completely empty-handed, in fact it gave her moment to realize that perhaps... this White City could have been mention in Thomas Doughtery's journal. Which means she'll have to visit Cheyenne, in turn endure her wrath for not returning her phone calls. With a sigh, she set her mind to visit her old friend.

* * *

Hesitantly, Scarlet knocked on Cheyenne's door. A silence filled her as she heard sounds of bare feet skidding across the marble floor of the kitchen. A smile developed on her lips to Cheyenne's love for running barefoot on clean marble. No doubt the floors had be recently waxed. As children they would slide across the floor with socks, which always got them in trouble with Annabella. The lock came undone as Cheyenne cracked open the door.

In the small gap, Cheyenne peered through, hiding her wild uncurled hair that was half pinned up and wore no makeup. There was worry in her eyes but slowly calmed to the sight of Scarlet. Scarlet casted a curious brow to the fact Cheyenne answered the door without at least foundation on her face. She'd always be vain about covering herself. Scarlet guessed that Cheyenne had a date tonight and was worried that her date arrived early before she finished dressing herself. Cheyenne blew out a bundle of air before she widened the door.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were Jack." Cheyenne exasperated with relief, then her eyes narrowed and continued with a firm voice, "Well stranger decided to come out and play?"

Scarlett barely mustered a smile, downcast her eyes and trailed the tip of her shoe against the cement. "Sorry for not calling back"

Cheyenne crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her eyes examined her young friend with concerned eyes. Why was Scarlett so pale? Paler than the last time she saw her and awfully skinning. There hasn't been a time when Scarlet didn't look healthy, but now she looked horrible. Cheyenne pursed her lips together in worry. "I understand this is difficult time but you needn't shut me out. Have you been eating?"

Scarlet's eyes darted back to Cheyenne, slightly offended to the strange reference to her weight. She retorted with a firm but confused voice, "Of course I have."

Cheyenne ignored her snarky response and stepped forward to place a hand over Scarlet's forehead, feeling her temperature. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No."

Cheyenne was unsatisfied with that answer. What could be draining her so horrifically? If she didn't know better, she would guessed she was sick with a serious disease, no other conclusion would justify her appearance. Sighing, her eyes trailed again up her friend with concern. "Come inside."

She widened the door and left Scarlet to close it. Scarlet left her purse on the entry table and followed Cheyenne into the kitchen where her older friend left behind her phone that vibrated from a text. Cheyenne wasted no time and swiftly snagged two cartons of ice cream from the freezer. Her never ending supply of ice cream brought a small smile on Scarlet's lips. "Here. Ice Cream is a remedy to everything."

Scarlet willingly excepted the ice cream and spoon. Driving straight into the sweet-land with a satisfied moan. "You can say that again." She murmured dreamily, licking the cream that melted down her spoon and fingers.

Silence filled them as they enjoyed their moments of peace. Cheyenne glanced up at Scarlet who was completely oblivious to everything around her except for the ice cream. She couldn't hold back a smile but it instantly dropped when she inquired softly, "Your father's funeral is on Friday. How you holding up?"

Scarlet snapped out of her ice cream fantasy-land and focused her attention on Cheyenne. With a shrug, she replied flatly, "As good as it can be expected. Uncle John had taken care of everything. Dad has been cremated and he'll be buried next to my mom."

Cheyenne nodded in comprehension and lowered her spoon and carton. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned on the countertop. Tilted her head to the side, she inquired gently. "Have you thought about finding your birth parents."

Scarlet swallowed a spoonful of ice cream, regretted it instantly when a brain freeze came along. Setting aside her dessert, she leaned away from the counter and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Sighing, she admitted calmly, "Possibly. Actually that why I came." Cheyenne furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and took another bite of her ice cream. Hesitantly, Scarlet requested rather carefully, "I was wondering if I can borrow your grandfather's journal."

"Scarlet..." Cheyenne warned softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Look." Scarlet's voice thick with resolve and eyed her older friend with determination, "I just want to borrow it. Thats all."

"Seriously Scarlet you ought to give this up. I mean look at you, you look like you haven't slept in ages." Cheyenne urged softly, as if she feared someone would hear her. If only Cheyenne knew that Scarlet never truly sleeps, not even with sleeping pills. "You're chasing a ghost."

Scarlet smiled to a wicked thought as she leaned back onto the counter. The corners of her lips grew into a impish smile, "Well if I find one, I'll be sure to send it to you."

Cheyenne chuckled to the brash comment and she returned with sarcasm, "Yeah, would that be before or after you scream your head off. Silly girl." She collected the ice cream cartons and returned them to the back of the freeze. Securely next to the ice maker. She gave a despondent sigh, "I wish I knew you were coming, I would have you stay the night but I have date."

Her eyes jumped to the large clock against the wall. It neared 5:15 and Jack would arrive in less that three hours. That was hardly time for Cheyenne to beautify herself. Scarlett smiled and held her hands up, "So no more, we'll have lunch this weekend."

"Sounds good, I'll meet you in the living room." Cheyenne gave Scarlet a smile before she dashed out of the kitchen with her bare feet slipping on the marble floor. Out of Scarlet's sight, she heard Cheyenne yell from a distance, "I'll be back."

The soft thumps from Cheyenne's feet came to Scarlet's ear followed by sounds of paper ruffling and a zipper closing. Scarlet slowly made her way out of the kitchen and into the spacious living room. Collapsing into the plumped couch, dramatically sprawled on the soft cushion until her feet relaxed on the armrest. Annabella always had good taste in furniture. Fingertips tapped on the her stomach to a song in her head when Cheyenne rushed down the stairs, almost slipping on the last step. A small smile came her to lips when Cheyenne squeaked but rebalanced herself and entered into the room. In her hand, she carried a small stylish backpack and dropped it onto Scarlet's stomach.

"Oh! You get to lounge on the couch!" Cheyenne playfully yelled as Scarlet sprawled even more, so there be no more room. Exasperating a deep sigh, Cheyenne went to the chair, "No matter this is more comfier."

Scarlet chuckled and sat up so her back was against the cushion and her foot securely tucked beneath her leg, "So, who's Jack?"

Cheyenne broke out into a large smile, her eyes became dreamily and leaned slightly toward Scarlet. "Oh this hottie from my history class." She fanned her face dramatically, "He's a transfer student from France. Oh! I love his accent. I am a sucker for blondes. Oh and he has such gorgeous eyes. You would drool if you met him."

Scarlet couldn't resist a smile. Cheyenne always had men lining up to date her, it was her curse. Scarlet thought. They could be at a restaurant together and men would simply flirt, believing they were irresistible to her charms. Her smile would make almost any man clay in her hands. Scarlet for one doesn't date, much to Cheyenne's dismay. Rarely could she convince Scarlet to do a double date. Call Scarlet old fashion, for she simply waited until she experience that moment when eyes meet across a room and then, she'll simply knows.

"He's friends with this other cute guy, we should seriously double date." Cheyenne winked and offered an impish smile.

Scarlet grimaced. "Cute guy? Like your old friend Greg who practically stalked me."

Memories of Greg from their first semester made Scarlet shiver. Greg was indeed attractive but a bit needy and territorial. But at the time, he was simply the boy next door to Cheyenne and when he met Scarlet, he fell head over heels for her. Called her beautiful and charming. However after all the roses and chocolates where dispersed, he became more aggressive to the point he would stalk her at school. Anywhere she went, he was there. It was rather unnerving when Scarlet did not wish to be pursed so strongly after three dates. But it ended when he came to the ranch and Buck chased him away with his rifle. That memory made her smile.

"Ok, so my choices in men for you weren't always perfect but this one, he cute. Give him a chance." Cheyenne begged, even pouted and even clasped her hands together in a plead. Batting her eyelashes followed by a smile.

Scarlett chuckled softly and murmured, "I'll think about it."

"Great! Think long and hard. It would be good for you to get out of your house and meet new people. And who knows, he could be your prince charming." Cheyenne continued with enthusiasm, puckering her lips and gave an air kiss. The look that Scarlet gave her forced Cheyenne to laughed hard.

"I wouldn't go that far." Scarlet retorted, rolling her eyes to Cheyenne's dramatic ideas of love and dating.

"Well, silly girl. How will you know until you've tried?" Cheyenne questioned, almost challenging. "You just wait until you meet your match and you'll come running to me with all these lovey dovey stories. You just watch."

"Ok matchmaker." Scarlet shook her head as she brought the small backpack to her lap and unzipped it open. She ignored the frown on Cheyenne's face when she pulled out the papers that were somewhat organized. "Have you read anymore?"

"One or two, but I just gave up. I had school and... Jack to get back too." Cheyenne murmured with a shrug as he pulled out the pins from her hair and allowed her short hair to fall onto her shoulders. She watched Scarlet put some of her grandfather's documents onto the coffee table with mild concern. This wild goose chase that her friend was on would only led to disappointment, but Scarlet had her mind made up and so, Cheyenne would wait for the fall.

"I'll give this back to you as soon as I am finished." Scarlet noted when she noticed the strange look in her eyes but Cheyenne didn't utter a word. She simply nodded in agreement and watched carefully as Scarlet flipped through the journal of its ripped content.

That was when suddenly Scarlet first heard the front door open followed by heel clacking on the marble floor. Ever so slightly, her eyes widened and she glanced at Cheyenne who at first was unaware but she stiffened when she heard a familiar voice, "Cheyenne?"

Both of the women froze in place to the voice of Annabella who came through the arched entryway with her rolling suitcase. Out from the hall and into the living room came a slender woman dressed in a sharp business suit. Her long brown hair pulled back into a tight bun and small diamond earrings on her earlobes. The Italian woman offered a warm smile to her daughter and then, she glanced to Scarlet. Surprised, Annabella said softly as she can be, "Oh Scarlett. Hello dear. I am sorry about Roy."

Scarlett barely cracked a smile, unsure how to respond. "Thanks."

Annabella turned to Cheyenne expectedly, her eyebrows rose as her profession voice came out, "You seemed surprised to see me. Did you not get my voicemail?" Before Cheyenne could respond, she glanced around the room and found it in disarray, "And why is my house filthy?"

Scarlet rose a delicate eyebrow when she looked around, even if a picture frame was ever so tilted, Annabella would consider it filthy. Everything must be in order in her home. Cheyenne sighed and raked her hand through her short blond hair, "No, mom, I didn't get your message." Cheyenne confessed, her voice irritated because now Annabella would go through the house and take note of what was not right.

Annabella sighed and murmured something in Italian that Scarlet would guess were oaths as she ripped off the gloves from her hands. Then Scarlet followed Annabella's curious eyes to the coffee table which she stiffened when Annabella reached for the document, "Are you studying?"

Annabella tilted her head to the side followed by a frown, her eyes snapped to Cheyenne. Scarlet watched as Annabella's face flushed red with irritation, "Cheyenne Margret, What are you still doing with this...!"

She waved the document in front of Cheyenne's face before tossing it back to the coffee table. Placed her hands on her hip, while her eyes narrowed solely on Cheyenne and waited with limited patience for her daughter to explain. To Annabella surprise, she heard, "Its my fault."

Shock crossed her face as she furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and looked to Scarlet, "Your fault?"

"Yes." Scarlet swallowed to the intense gaze that Annabella was so good at. It made her want to spill the beans in a rapid fire motion, "You see I... I am the one that asked Cheyenne about Thomas.. Doughtery."

Annabella crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, "Why ever for? What is he to you?"

"He found me." Scarlet answered dryly, her voice dropped along with her eyes. It sounded almost real in her own ears.

When Scarlet looked back at Annabella, her mouth slightly parted followed by a long pause. It was as if her legs were too weak and Annabella slowly sat in the chair across from the young brunette, "They told you?" She barely breathed in amazement.

Scarlet blinked, "Wait, you knew? You knew all along that I was adopted?"

Annabella pursed her lips together to the accusation in Scarlet's tone and forced her to tighten her hands into iron first, "Of course I knew!" She exclaimed offensively, "I was friends with your Mother."

Scarlet winced when she mention Rhea was her mother. For some odd reason it pierced her heart. Straighten up, she pleaded in a soft voice, "Please, do you know anything. Thomas Doughtery is my only connection to find where I was from."

"You have wonderful parent, why would you..." Annabella began in a affronted voice before Scarlet cut her off, "Because, I need to know. I need closure."

Annabella stared at the young girl long and hard. There in Scarlet eyes, Annabella noticed a familiar look. She had that look when she asked her own mother about her father's disappearance. It was rather painful and therefore, Annabella sighed hard. "Fine." She gave in a soft voice, "I'll tell you what I know. It was the summer of 1995..."

1995

It was a dark night, darker than usual. The rain poured relentless, threatened to flood the roads with inches of water. The clouds hovered the sky, twisted with shades of grey and flash of lightening. The air was crisp, chilled to the bone. A black cloak concealed Thomas Doughtery's appearance as he walked the lone road on the country side, cuddled precious cargo in the crook of his arm. He was weary, his feet stumbled on the dirt road, but he refused to give in. Shivering to his drenched clothing that did not match modern society standards. A ripped tunic and trousers would certainly earn him a curious brow, if not insults.

Over the hill he went until the ranch house came to view, outlined by the lightening that struck in the background. From the window light of the living room, he suspected Roy and his wife Rhea were home. When the infant stirred in his arms, he swiftly covered her deeper into his clothing to prevent her from getting wet. This child has slept peacefully and oddly enough with her eyes opened. Thomas reached to the porch, his every step was heavy and draining all that he had.

On the porch, Thomas pulled back his cowl and eyed the door. He was breathing laboredly and chest pains attacked him. He was injured and would not last long. Hesitantly he nocked roughly on the door. The sounds of the television came to an end followed by heavy footsteps. The lock came undone and the door widened. Light from the inside illuminated Thomas's old features.

Roy's eyes narrowed at the stranger until suddenly recognized him, "Thomas? Thomas Doughtery is that you?"

Thomas managed to smile wearily at his old friend. "Hello Roy."

Roy opened the door wider until Thomas was swathe in light. Shock slowly wore off for it had been ten years years since he last saw Thomas. Here he was now, pale and aged tremendously over the years. Even his clothes would raise questions. Despite his disappearance, he couldn't shake his overwhelming joy to see him again. However it was splintered when he heard a strange sound. A soft whimper from within Thomas's cloak.

"Old friend." Thomas came into the house without permission, but Roy was too shocked to care. He hardly noticed Thomas's wet clothes dripping onto the wooden floor. As difficult as it was, Thomas pushed through his dizzy mind and asked in a raspy voice, "I must ask a favor."

Thomas pulled back his cloak and pulled out a bundle of white blanks. Peering from within was a small infant, not more than six months with a head full of black hair and eyes as blue as the caribbean ocean. Roy's hands shook, confused he glanced up at his old friend, "Thomas..."

"Please, take her, she's special." Thomas instantly handed her to him. As if it was instinct, Roy embraced the child into his arms before he looked at Thomas.

"Thomas.." he began again but Thomas cut him off.

"Do not ask question." Thomas rasped harshly, "I trust her to you. Please keep her secret and safe."

Roy glanced down at the child that stirred in his arms. A beautiful child she was. Unlike anything that he had ever seen. Gently, with his free hand he stroked her odd ears that were pointed at the tip. When the infant reached out and held his large finger in her tiny hand, Roy smiled. "Thomas...?" He looked back up but he stood alone and opened door with sounds of thunder in the background. Thomas had fled into the darkness.

"Roy?" Rhea called from the kitchen as she walked into the living and frowned to the opened door. When Roy turned to reveal a small child in his arms, she gasped and glanced up to Roy's eyes.

oooOOOooo

"Thats it?" Scarlett asked at the end of the story, flabbergasht to the lack of information. Her shoulders drooped in disappointment and rubbed her forehead for a strange headache developed from her stress.

"Yes." Annabella uttered firmly, much to Scarlet's dismay, "Shortly after, he came here. Cheyenne was no more than year or two."

"He was here?" Cheyenne asked surprised, straightened herself on the chair, "What happened? Did he say anything?"

"No I sent him away." Annabella said firmly, held her head high and dignified.

"You tross him out?" Cheyenne questioned, her voice full of contempt. "But why?"

"Because I needed to protect you." Annabella said through her teeth. The memory of her father made her more agitated then her daughter's tone with her, "Thomas Doughtery is a lost man. He will break your heart as he did mine. Leave him in the past that where he belongs, that is where he wanted to be."

"But mom, if he wanted too, he could have stayed..." Cheyenne started softly, noted the firmness in her mother's tone.

For moment Annabella actually pitied her daughter's hopes for her missing grandfather. Cheyenne never endured the disappointment on the following mornings of her father's reappearance nor the sadness of when he never called or even sent a birthday card! The only proof she had that he actually appeared throughout her childhood was the small gifts from strange times. Annabella's heart twisted when she remembered Thomas at her front door on that night after ten years. She was alone in the kitchen of her newly bought house. Her husband was away on a business trip in another state and her daughter slept soundly upstairs. Thomas was desperate to see her and his new granddaughter. And during her moment of weakness, she allowed him to see Cheyenne while she slept and then casted him out into the cold weather to never be seen again.

Annabella pursed her lips to the hurt that erupted in her chest. With a deep sigh, she willed away her feelings and harden herself once more. Slowly rising from her chair, straightening her jacket as if there were no wrinkles. "No my dear, Thomas would not have stayed. He didn't even stay for your grandmother or me. He was lost in the past, chasing dreams."

"Did he ever mentioned where he went?" Scarlet suddenly spoke when it seemed safe to do so.

Annabella actually forgot Scarlet witness their private moment and her hand tightened on the suitcase handle. She muttered firmly through her teeth, "It doesn't matter."

With that Annabella turned on her heels with her suitcase in hand and escaped from her memories. Scarlet heard ever step, heavy with anger as Annabella stomped her way upstairs.

"So he did just give me to my parent." Scarlet said in a dry tone, tried to lightened the mood, "I hoped for more."

"I know. Perhaps you can focus on finding your parents and not Thomas." Cheyenne suggested calmly and then helped Scarlet collect the documents from the coffee table. They gently returned them to the backpack before Annabella returned.

Scarlett stood and hauled the strap over her shoulder and nodded in comprehension, "I will."

Cheyenne walked Scarlet to the front door, forlorn. Scarlet offered a smile and swiftly hugged her long time friend, "Let me know how the date went."

"I will." Cheyenne pulled away and allowed Scarlet to walked down the cement path to the driveway. Cheyenne's eyes dropped to the backpack and almost regretted giving it to her. Hesitantly Cheyenne called, "Scarlet?" Scarlet turned with an arched eyebrow, "Don't live in the past for too long, ok?"

Scarlet offered a small smiled and nodded and turned away.

* * *

To be continued.

Sorry everyone for the long delay. I went through a nasty break up and moved away from the state that I lived in. To top it all, I lost some all of my works for this story, so I am starting from scratch. So bear with me.

I thank you for reviewing my last chapter!


	5. The Silver Ring

Here's the next chapter! :D

* * *

_The Traveller_

* * *

The Silver Ring

1980

to

Unknown

Years of the Trees

Thomas Doughtery materialized into thin air, stumbling to the ground and panted heavily as if he ran for hours. With an empty stomach and a parched throat, Thomas tried to focused his hazy eyes at the environment and tried to recognize anything.. but this forest was unfamiliar. The tree seemed older compared to Lothlorien, Rivendell or Mirkwood. He rose from the ground and removed a ring from his finger and slipped it into his pocket.

As he journeyed through the forest, he came to the conclusion that he was thoroughly lost. It felt old and almost magically. With every breeze that shudder the leaves there was a soft voice singing a song. The birds carried the song across the forest, echoing until the last verse faded into silence. Thomas stopped to listen in wonder. He hoped to hear it again but the birds remained silent. Despondent, Thomas found a comfortable spot beneath a hovering tree. During those days in the forest, he would make a fire and hunt for meat with his bow.

He cooked a rabbit that he recently hunted. Suddenly he had an odd feeling of being watched. He felt as if there were eyes on him. At times he believed he had lost his mind for he caught glimpses of something blue between the trees.

On the fourth day, he moved further through the forest, captivated by it splendor. Then he came to an abrupt stop and his eyes widened when he noticed a woman crept up from behind a tall tree. The woman in question leaned out in curiosity and her blue piercing eyes gazed at him in wonder. If Thomas didn't knew better he would thought she had never seen a human. She had a head full of long black hair with several strands tucked behind a delicate pointed ear. A dark blue dress covered her slender body with her the neckline hanging off of her shoulders. Delicate features filled her ivory face with beauty and gentleness. Her innocence eyes held a sort of glimmer as she took him in, assessing carefully.

_An elf_

Thomas's journal slipped from his fingers as his mouth dropped in awe of her beauty. In all his travels, no one rivaled her beauty. Her eyes shined with purity and curiosity. Instantly, his heart constricted painfully and regretted his attraction for this elleth, because the woman who bore Annabelle remained at home... waiting for him. He closed his mouth and regained his composure.

"Who are you?" His voice barely above a whisper, his eyes unable to move away from those glimmering blue eyes.

Slowly the elf bravely came out from her hiding spot and allowed the sun, that pierced through the tree, to swathe her in the light. Her lips parted slightly and her eyes remained on his in caution. Her long black mane cascaded down like a river over her blue dress. Even though he spoke in a whisper, she furrowed her eyebrows to his question and she tilted her head to the side.

The look in her eyes gave him the impression that she did not speak in the common tongue. He pointed at himself, "I am Thomas."

Like a bird would, she tilted her head again and took a step back.

"Thomas." He repeated.

Then her eyes widened in realization, and the smallest smile came to her lips but she hesitated and took another step back. Thomas noticed her slow retreat and feared she would dash away before his eyes. The wind tugged at her dark hair and she swiftly snagged a loose strand and tucked it behind her pointed ear. She bit the corner of her lip thoughtfully, before she responded softly, "_Ach_ Luthien."

Her name past through her lips like bell chimes and Thomas simply could not help but smile to her. Innocence claimed her demeanor to the point Thomas would have guessed her to be a young elleth, unworldly and sheltered. She took another step back, faded into the shade of a grand tree, her eyes never wavered. She inquired in her velvet tone, "_Caro a dh sí_?"

Thomas frowned when she spoke in her native language. "I do not understand you."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she contemplated on ways to communicate with this stranger. Suddenly a loud horn sounded across the forest and Luthien listened intently. Luthien shifted slightly, appeared to struggle with some internal battle. Thomas assumed that she would flee to the sound of what he believed to be her home but wanted to remain.

She bit her lip again and the horn sounded again. She looked to him, smiled kindly before she uttered softly, "Namárië"

Before Thomas could attempt to understand her, Luthien dashed into the forest and faded between the trees with glimpses of her dress and hair waving against the wind. The was no footprint in the dirt or any sign for him to track. Thomas wanted to call for her, but he remained silent and even question if she was ever truly there.

ooOOoo

Scarlet sighed disappointedly when she finished the entry. She laid on her stomach upon her full sized bed with her feet swinging in the air. Papers from the journal were sprawled across her bed in different piles of read and unread or too damaged. There wasn't much information in the last five entries that she read. His entries were repetitive and quite frankly, it began to annoy her. This last entry was utterly uneventfully. It simply spoke about a beautiful elven woman in a strange forest that went by the name Luthien. A name that meant nothing to her as well as the others.

However what caught her attention was the ring. Thomas had mentioned the ring in his previous entries but Scarlett passed it off as nothing. Perhaps it was nothing. She tossed the paper to the read pile and began to feel discourage. Scarlet sighed and rested her head upon her forearms. All the entries were of small glimpses of different people and places throughout time. If he was a time traveller, how was he traveling? In his earlier entries, he mentioned it was genetics related but Annabella or Cheyenne could not time travel. Perhaps it was lie or maybe Annabella was right about her father's insanity. Maybe he stole Scarlet as a babe and give her to Roy because they couldn't have children. He could have been a thief and stole any these _fake _artifacts and some guy Tolkien's manuscript. Were all his entries simply ideas from the characters and places from the _Lord of the Rings. _

Scarlet glanced to the manuscript that laid on her night stand. As she scooted closer to the edge, she snatched it and flipped it to her bookmark where she left the story at Elrond's council. That name Elrond had appeared in one of the entries that she read... In a strange way, the name Elrond sounded so familiar...

Sighing, Scarlet brought back the previous entry and reread about Luthien..

_A beauty unlike no other, with dark hair, blue eyes and ears that pointed at the tip... _

_Like the other elves, she possessed stealthiness, impeccable hearing _

_and ran without leaving a single footprint in the dirt..._

Unconsciously, Scarlet brought her slender fingers to her own ear, trailing up the lobe until she touched the sensitive tip. She flinched, a chill coursed through her system and she swiftly released her ear. Ever since she was a child, she was teased because of her odd ears. The children would pull on the tip until she cried in pain. Her parents told her she was born with deformed ears. It was a sensitive topic for her due to all the bullies. As she grew older, she was able to avoid the cruel children but sneaking silently away from them and whenever she heard their approach, she ran without so much of a print on the ground. The children were never able to find her at recesses or explain how she snuck up on them during class and outrun them with superior speed in P.E. Scarlet had always been an oddity and simply believed she was in fact special, but now she was left in doubt. Thomas called Luthien an elf...

_Impossible_

Scarlet laughed at herself before she tossed the entry to the side and swiftly stood up. As she lifted her arms over her head, she felt a pleasurable pop in her back and all her muscles loosened. When she dropped her arms, her eyes trailed up to the wall where her full mirror was hanging, displaying her reflection. Dark hair, blue eyes and ears that pointed at the tip. Possessed stealthiness, impeccable hearing and ran without leaving a single footprint in the dirt.. that description fitted her.

She wanted to laugh again. "I might end up in a straight jacket if I keep these thoughts up."

Scarlet left her room to clear her mind. The time inched to six pm and Rosa had food prepared on the table. Homemade enchilada and Mexican rice made her stomach rubble. When she joined Buck and Rosa for dinner that night, the tension never lessened. The chair where her father would have sat remained empty. Their small circle was broken without Roy and got smaller and smaller. It didn't go unnoticed how Rosa and Buck glanced at her with hesitant eyes. They treated her like a fragile doll and now since her 'adoption' secret was out in the open, they walked on egg shells. And Scarlett hated it...

After dinner was finished, Rosa sulked back into the kitchen and set about to clean the dishes. Scarlet learned years ago that she should never intrude on Rosa's territory. The kitchen was hers and hers alone. While Rosa slipped away, Scarlet sat uncomfortably with Buck who tried to keep his attention on his glass of ice tea. He stirred and stirred as a frown grew prominent to the tension. Scarlet sighed and brushed her fingers through her long locks. Enough was enough.

"Buck..." She murmured softly, stared intently at the older man who was hesitant to return her gaze. When he brought up his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I am not mad at you."

Buck's eyes flashed with recognition as he finally stopped stirring and leaned back into his chair. The sound of him swallowing hard came to Scarlet's ears and she tilted her head to the side to his discomfort. "Look, girl... it was your parent's decision..."

"I know." Scarlet swiftly cut him off with a soft voice, "I am not mad... I mean.. yes, I am furious at dad and mom... but.."

"I know girl." Buck muttered, hated to see sweet Scarlet flushed with anger and bewilderment. This was not a situation where he could pull out his rifle and deal with the problem the old-fashion way. It was certainly different compared to the ten year girl who ran through the halls with pigtails and told everyone she can speak to trees. Those days were simpler. Sighing deeply, Buck rubbed his tired face and hated these types of talks but Scarlet needed a male figure, someone to fill her father's shoes. Therefore he shared something that only Roy knew about, "I was adopted too."

Scarlet's face fell, her lips parted in surprise. Buck was a silent man and never uttered anything personal, at least not to her. This came as an absolute shock. She would never had suspected... "You're adopted?"

"Yes." Buck answered shortly, his eyes finally leveled with hers.

Scarlet blinked once or twice before she sighed deeply and leaned into the chair. Biting her lip in thought, Scarlet looked up again at Buck, "How did you cope when you found out?"

Buck shrugged, struggled to find the right words, "You simply do."

"Did you ever find your birth parent." She asked, intrigued as she leaned forward. Buck sighed and rubbed his neck.

"Yes, and I regretted it." Buck uttered deeply, his eyes grew grave. Scarlet noticed the settle tension in the old man's body. His muscles tightened to whatever memories that came to him and his lips pressed into a thin line. This look made him look older and his wrinkles deepened into his overly tanned skin, "My birth mother was a alcoholic and my father was in jail for murder..."

Scarlet blinked in surprise again. She could not imagine a murderer and alcoholic bearing this wonderful silent man before her. Buck was all together in mind and body. It was odd and even painful to think of what if he were raised by them. Adoption was in his best interest and now, she could not help but wonder if her parents were any different. Perhaps Thomas saved her and brought her to Roy and Rhea to have a good home, like Buck was saved and placed in an adoptive home. A newfound appreciate grew in her chest.

"Scarlet." Buck called and instantly she looked to him, "Take it from an old man, if you decide to find your birth parents, be careful. The grass ain't always greener of the other side."

Scarlet's lips parted to that warning as Buck rose from his chair and retreated to his room. After that moment, she felt the tension between her and Buck severed. To that thought, a smile grew on her lips. Even without her parents, she had a family with Buck and Rosa.

* * *

Scarlet reentered her bedroom where the journal was sprawled across her bed of its contents. Slowly she approached her bed and contemplated if she should continue this _investigation_. So what if she was adopted? Her parents were good to her and she had opportunities that she may not have had if she was with her birth parents. As she stared, it grew tempting to research further.

_The grass ain't always greener on the other side..._

Was she truly ready for the truth?

Her hands tightened and she bit her lip thoughtfully. Sighing, Scarlet shook her head and piled up the journal and the entries and left it on her desk. When she turned away, her heart grew heavy but she set her mind to let go of her obsession with Thomas Doughtery. Perhaps she should return to school in the coming semester. For the first time in several days, she felt utterly weary. As she sat onto her bed, she fell backwards and bounced on the springs. She eyed at the cream ceiling and slowly her world began to swirl like a wheel. Scarlett gathered herself into a ball, slowly her eyes glazed over and she fell into a deep sleep with her eyes wide open...

_"Drego!" A scream came from a beautiful golden hair woman who was injured on the floor. __Blood spilled from her shoulders as her golden locks drenched in a tint of red. __Her eyes filled with tears as she looked lovingly upon a her babe that she thrusted into Thomas Doughtery's arms. Black ugly creatures descended from the trees and struck down all in their path._

_"Drego!" _

_Thomas Doughtery hesitated but then fled with the babe in his arms..._

Scarlet jumped up from the bed, breathing heavily as her throat tightened until it became too painful to breathe. The emotions swelled in her chest, suffocating her. Then a sob escaped from her parted lips followed by tears. Her hand clenched to her chest as she hunched over so her head was between her legs. Slowly she tried to breathe through the severe emotion that swallowed her up. Never in her life had she experienced something so intense or painful. It was as if she channeled the woman from her dreams.

And she never dreamt before...

Slowly Scarlet rose from her bed, as the pain slowly subsided but remained sore in her chest. Was that a memory? No, it couldn't possibly. She never experience anything like that. The babe was an infant and how could she remember anything so young? Her earliest memory was when she was two and managed to crawl outside under her mother's nose. She stood up and began to pace in circles. Then her mind suddenly thought of her uncle and aunt...

_He said you were special. Different. You could hear things from the other side of the ranch and slept with your eyes open. You sometimes foresaw events..._

Scarlet stopped in the middle of her room, frowned deeply to the thought. Was she foreseeing something? No, something told that was not the truth. It was the past... her past. Suddenly, as if a ice bucket of water hit her, Scarlet breathed deeply to the realization. In her heart, Scarlet knew the babe was her. It was her earliest memory that had been buried for years and now researching for her birth parents must triggered it. The woman in her memory was utterly beautiful, unlike anyone she had ever seen but the sadness on her face caused Scarlet to fall into despair. Slowly, Scarlet sat on the edge of the bed.

The woman was her mother...

Scarlet's eyes burned with salt tears again, but this time in sorrow. Her mother loved her and it ripped her mother apart to be parted from her. That realization forced more sobs as Scarlet covered her face with her hands and wept. Several minutes past and Scarlet recovered with new founded determination. As she eyed the journal, she was going to find out who her mother was... she needed too...

Her feeling of not belonging here were slowly unraveling. Swiftly she grabbed the journal and flipped through the pages. She moved the 'read' pile of entries to her night stand as she pulled out the top entry from the journal...

* * *

1960

Thomas crawled out of the taxi cab that stopped in front of his old home in Italy. The manor looked just the way he left it years ago when he went to America. Now twenty three and recently graduated from college with a history degree, Thomas found the time to visit his older brother. Although, he wished it were under better circumstances. A year earlier, in 1959, his mother fell ill of cancer and swiftly died four months later. Since then, William wanted Thomas to fly out and go through the things that their mother left for him.

William came out of the manor with a wide smile, his unruly hair made Thomas want to laugh. Being father made William less presentable. As the older brother walked down the steps to the sidewalk, he swiftly hugged Thomas tightly. William patted his back, pleased to see his brother after five years. Before Thomas had the chance, William paid the cabdriver and tipped him well.

"Thomas, its great to see you." William said with excitement, as he grabbed one of his younger brother's suitcases and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "How was your flight."

"Horrid!" Thomas exclaimed, hated flying especially over seas. This earned him a hardy laugh from William as he patted his shoulder. They walked up the steps when a slight build woman with a swollen stomach came out.

Giuliana, William's pregnant wife, smiled widely at Thomas. Her bubbly demeanor overwhelmed Thomas when she came to hug him tightly. Swiftly she kissed both cheeks and uttered loudly, "Ciao amore! Vieni dentro!"

Thomas translated her words though his english mind and smiled. Its been several years since he spoken Italian and being here again made him realize he almost lost all his native language. Giuliana led the men into the room, and helped Thomas out of his thick jacket while still smiling until her cheeks were about to burst. Thomas thanked her in Italian. They faced a split staircase leading to the second floor. The house remained the same when his parents owned it. Memories of his childhood swept across his mind.

"I am sure you remember where your old bedroom is?" William inquired teasingly as he wrapped his arm around his very pregnant wife.

"Yes." Thomas stifled a yawn.

"Jet lagging?" William question with an arched brow, "Go rest and make yourself at home Thomas."

"Thanks, rest sounds inviting." Thomas murmured sleepily, as he rubbed his left eye.

"La cena è alle sei!" Giuliana chided in, slightly understanding their english conversation but was comfortable with Italian.

William watched Thomas concentrate on her words and then began laughing loudly, "Please don't tell me you forgotten your Italian! What would mother think?"

Thomas chuckled softly, it was almost silent compared to William's boisterous laugh. "After years being in America, I might be slipping or perhaps after some rest, it might come back."

"Sure sure, you slacker." William rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Dinner is at 6. I'll come get you."

"Thank you." He said sleepily before he turned to Giuliana, "Grazie."

"Prego. Vai a riposare." She said maternally as she escaped from William's embrace and entered into the kitchen.

Thomas finally made it to his room, weary and ready for rest. As he entered the room, everything was how he left it. After William had his first child, Thomas expected to sleep in the guest room. In someways, Thomas knew William missed him and surely wanted him to return to Italy, but Thomas had yet told him about an american girl that he was slowly falling for. He dropped his bag and instantly collapsed on his bed, smelt the clean comforter.

When he awoke several hours later, he looked at his watched which displayed four thirty. He moaned... six hours was not enough but he could no longer sleep. As he rose from his bed, stretched and decided to explore his old room. Most of which was exactly where he left it. He went to his walk-in closet and was greeted with boxes. That was not there before. It was most likely the belongings that his mother left for him.

Sighing, he brushed his hand through his shaggy hair and turned away to find the bathroom. Down the corridor to the left was the old bathroom that needed a major update. Most of the appliances where from the 1930's. Once he was finished, he returned to his room when he heard a toddler crying along with soft cooing. Giuliana must be putting Riccardo to sleep.

Thomas reentered his room and was determined to finish the boxes. On this trip, he wanted to spend time with family and friends and not waste everything on boxes. He suspected most of the stuff here were his mother's sentimental objects that she refused to toss. And right he was. He found old baby shoes from when he was six months and old toys he played with. Sighing, this was going to be boring. As time went on, he searched one by one. Several boxes contained statuettes from different historical periods in Italy. Probably hand-me-downs from his mother side of the family. Thomas shook his head and continued. He had no desire to take anything. There was enough statuettes in his office and home. Even if he considered taking them home, he would have to figure out how to transport these to America. It would be difficult not getting anything destroyed.

He neared the last box that appeared very old, never opened and slowly deteriorated on the side. It smelt musty that forced Thomas to cough. It had no name on it and it made Thomas wonder if William was sneaking boxes for him to take home. Their mother loved fake rocks to nick nacks. He was tempted to simply toss it but, humoring himself, he ripped the top. What a surprise, he thought bitterly. More statuettes. Most were tiny but one in particular caught he attention. As he rose from the ground, he examined it.

It was different compared to the others. Older with strange designs of warriors painted in white with golden accents and calligraphy of a strange language. Now this, he wouldn't mind having on his shelve back home.

A suddenly knock came to the door, shocking him to reality as the statuette slipped from his fingers and shattered on the ground.

"Thomas... Dinner is ready." William's voice came from the other side of the door. "What was that?"

"Nothing, William." Thomas muttered irritatedly. The only thing he really wanted scattered to the ground, "I'll be down shortly."

He sighed long and hard before he hopped over the mess, planning to leave it behind until after dinner when the light from the window reflected off a silver band. Dark eyebrows knitted together in curiosity as he collected the ring from the ground. Strangely intrigued by it beauty, his finger circled the ring with utter fascination. He had a strange desire to wear it. As he flipped the ring on the side, there were two diamonds placed closely together with a leaf engrave connected them by the stem. He instantly loved it.

Greedily hid it away from his brother.

* * *

Scarlet frowned again, to the mentioning of this ring. As Thomas wrote, he immediately loved the ring and did not want William to have it. It must have been very special, Scarlet wagered mentally. Shaking her head, she flipped the page and surprised to find more writing on the back, more like a love note for this ring..

_I found it. A beautiful ring given to me by my mother _

_William can not have it_

_No one can _

_It is precious to me but bearing it came with consequences..._

Scarlet reread that line several time. That last sentence appeared many times in Thomas's previous entries but never explained why bearing this ring had consequences. What consequences could a ring have? Did people ogle it too much? Were there buyers trying to buy it from him? She wondered if Annabella had the ring now. Perhaps if she ask... no Annabella would be furious. That was a road that she wanted to avoid.

Sighing, Scarlet moved on to the next entry...

* * *

The following morning came with a bright sunrise that shined through the window. Scarlet abandoned the journal and readied herself for the funeral. She was not ready for thins. Today she would have to officially say goodbye to her deceased adoptive father. She was still angry at him and wanted nothing more than to yell, hug even hit him for lying to her until the very end.

As she stood before her mirror, she pulled her long hair into a tight bun with a few pins on the side. Dropping her hands to her sides, she grimaced at her reflection. She's clad in black slacks with a dark blouse and heels. Black had never been her color. Her blue eyes went to her pointed ears and suddenly felt insecure. Today was not a day she wanted people to stare at her ear because they always do. Swiftly, she unbounded her hair, shaking her strands until they laid freely over her chest. Unruly and complete country girl fitted her.

When she glanced at her clock it was fifteen til nine and the funeral would begin at ten. Sighing despondently, her eyes crossed the journal again. Almost tempted to read through Thomas's secrets. She had forty five minutes until her family would drive into town. Anything was better than this endless wait. As she sat on her bed again, she opened the worn journal and gently flipped through the pages nonchalantly until she reached to the back cover. Suddenly her finger passed over a strange bump on the inside of the leather hardcover. Gently she took the ripped documents and placed them on the nightstand so they would not fall to the ground whilst she investigated the bump. Whatever it was, it was well hidden, barely noticeable even for her good eyesight.

Her fingers traced it and it formed a circle. Scarlet went to her dresser and pulled out a pocket knife. Slowly she ran the tip of the knife over the bump, cutting the material open. Then out from the rip, fell a silver ring. It clanged on the floor, rolled out until it faltered on it side in the center of the room. The sound was loud in her sensitive ears and caused her heart to constrict. As she stared at it, she felt a strange pull, as if the ring called out to her. Scarlett placed the journal on the bed and kneeled down to the floor, not caring her her slacks got dirty.

She collected it from the ground and rested in the palm of her finger. Despite being so small, it felt oddly heavily and... memorizing. It had two diamonds with a leaf engraved, completely clean but with scratch markings from usage. Swiftly, Scarlet went to the journal entries and searched for the entry about Thomas's old home. When she found it, she reviewed the description of the ring.

_Two diamonds were were connected by a leaf engraving. _

As she looked on the band, there was in fact two diamonds with a leaf engraving. Was this the ring that Thomas said was precious to him? She eagerly scanned it's beauty. It was... captivating. Complete forget everything, nothing seemed more important than wearing that ring. Without further hesitation, she put on the ring on her left ring finger. Admiring it from afar as a smile came onto her lips.

A strange shift in the air caused Scarlett to glance up and found everything gone. She was not in her room, or even on her ranch but rather a vast field of wild flowers. Confused Scarlett turned in place, scanned her surrounding. There was no city, sign or even a road. She was outside under the hot sun in the middle of no where.

Scarlet froze in trepidation... Did she time travel?

* * *

To be continued

* * *

Hi everyone sorry for the long wait. I have been fighting with the chapter. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, all my ideas for this story are gone. This chapter was actually not suppose to happen for at least another 3 - 5 chapters, but all well. I hope the story doesn't feel too rushed.

Well, what do you think? Is it getting interesting?

**Elvish**

Ach - I am

Caro a dh sí - Why are you here?

Namárië - Farewell

_Drego - Flee_

**_Italian_**

_Ciao Amore - Hello Dear_

_Vieni dentro - Come inside_

La cena è alle sei - Dinner is at six

Grazie - Thank you

Prego. vai a riposare - Your welcome, go rest


End file.
